The Flesh Is The Surface Of The Unknown
by Canonisation
Summary: Zosia is still struggling to deal with her mother's death, but her investigations lead her into realms she had never dreamt of. Crossover with the works of Clive Barker. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **

The Flesh Is The Surface Of The Unknown

**By: **

Canonisation

**Disclaimer: **

I do not own Holby City, or anything created by Clive Barker, and I'm extremely grateful to the creators for giving me works that I enjoy so much.

**Notes: **

This is an AU for the most part. Jessie and Zosia never hooked up, but it is set around the time they would have.

Dr. Cowley (and her desire to date Zosia) was mentioned in 'Anything You Can Do'.

This work contains some explicit language and references to sex and violence. It is an edited version to comply with FanFiction dot net's regulations - an uncut version can be found on Archive Of Our Own.

The title is a quote by Victor Hugo.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter One:<span>**

Stark brick passageways faded into the painted walls of the bedroom. The eerie blue glow that seemed to pass _between_ the bricks dimmed, then disappeared. The distant sounds of crying grew faint, then silent.

As awareness grew, Zosia realised she was awake, and in her own bed. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and glanced at her alarm clock. It was time to get up.

Already, the details were fading, but she knew she'd had the dream again. From what she could recall of it, something was calling her - something that was in pain, something that was suffering. But she could never find it - she was trapped in a maze of corridors, unable to find a way through, taunted by anguished cries that seemed to come from all around her. And there was something else...something...

Zosia shook her head - it was gone. It always went quickly, no matter how many times she had the dream - and she'd had the dream quite a few time now. It had to mean _something_, didn't it? She'd tried searching through dream interpretation books, done research on the details she could remember, but none of the interpretations she'd found seemed to make much sense, or be of any relevance to her current life.

Sighing deeply, she rose from her bed, and strode into the bathroom, pushing past a slightly surprised Arthur. As she closed the door, it sounded like he was complaining about her jumping the queue and using all the hot water or some such business, but she wasn't really listening.

Pulling off her clothes, Zosia stepped into the shower and let the hot water cascade down her body, refreshing her and washing away the questions of her nocturnal visions. Puzzling dreams aside, her life seemed to finally be on track for the first time in as long as she could remember. Her training was going well, and even Sacha Levy was confident she was going to pass the year, despite some fairly disastrous events along the way. She liked where she lived, she enjoyed the company of her roommates (far more then they seemed to enjoy each other's company), and she was even - sort of - getting along with her father.

Her father. She closed her eyes at the thought. Both of their lives had been eventful - to say the least - since the day she'd been shocked to see him at the top of that staircase. He'd been giving a would-be inspirational speech to his new acolytes and the sight had almost floored her. She hadn't expected to see him at her place of work, much less running it, and with no forewarning. It had been quite a shock, to say the least.

They'd had their ups and downs since then - which was a colossal understatement - but now they had seemed to have a reasonably decent working relationship. They were, at the bare minimum, able to have a conversation without it breaking down into a screaming match, which was a big improvement.

Finishing her shower, Zosia stepped out and dried herself off. Wrapping herself in a towel, she left the bathroom, walking past Arthur again, who still seemed annoyed about the water for some reason.

At breakfast, Zosia was nibbling a piece of toast and Dominic was fixing some coffee when Arthur emerged from his room, his hair still wet. He sat down at the table, glaring at Zosia, and endeavoured to pour his cereal as angrily as he could.

Zosia frowned. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what?'" said Arthur peevishly. "You do this every morning."

"Do what?"

"Barge past me into the bathroom."

"I don't think I _barge_, Arthur."

"And you use _all_ the hot water. I mean, how long do showers need to be, anyway?"

Dominic wandered over with two cups of coffee. "You need your coffee, Digs. You get _so_ cranky in the morning."

"Thank you," mumbled Arthur, obviously not keen on having to thank Dominic. "I just hate having to take cold showers every day."

Dominic smirked. "Well, it'll help to curb that rampaging libido of yours."

Despite herself, Zosia giggled. Arthur glared at her. "It's good to see that my discomfort is so amusing. Plus, I have a girlfriend, as you well know."

"How is Mollusc Girl, anyway?" asked Zosia.

"_Maria_ is fine," said Arthur pointedly. "Anyway...all I'm asking is that maybe we could follow the bathroom rota that I so painstakingly drew up. It's more than fair, I think everyone will agree."

"I'm sorry, Arthur," said Zosia. "You know me - I get tunnel vision sometimes. Hard to see what else is there apart from what's on my mind."

"That is _certainly_ true," said Dominic. "Laser-guided doesn't even begin to describe it."

Arthur took a sip of his coffee. "I suppose I could always get up 45 minutes before anyone else like Dominic."

Dominic recoiled in mock-offence. "Oh, I suppose that _just_ because I'm gay I have to spend more time than anyone on my hair?"

"No. I know you're doing it because I can hear you and your stompy footsteps every morning at an ungodly hour, and it _always_ wakes me up."

"Ignore him," said Zosia soothingly. "Your footsteps are as light as feathers, and your hair is well worth the effort."

("If you like the Tintin look," interjected Arthur.)

"Right back at you," said Dominic and high-fived Zosia.

This prompted an eye roll from Arthur. After a brief pause, however, he looked over at her and gave a small smile. "It is good that you do seem to be in such a good mood lately," he said softly. "I mean, I was getting a _little_ worried that you were falling ap...I mean, I'm not an expert in the mind or anything..."

"Makes the choice of neurology a bit weird," muttered Dominic.

Arthur ignored him. "But...you were...well, struggling is probably the wrong word...and I'm not suggesting that I was listening at your room or anything, but the times I could hear you at night crying..."

"It's okay." Zosia smiled at him warmly. "I know what you mean, and things were rough there for a while..."

"More like most of a year," mumbled Arthur.

Zosia ignored him. "But I really think things are starting to get better. Work's going well...I'm living with two guys I really like..." No point in mentioning the dreams. Bad dreams were just a part of life.

Arthur grinned bashfully. "Oh! Well, of course I like living with you too." Dominic cleared his throat meaningfully. Arthur ignored him, and continued. "And maybe...you could...just a suggestion...talk to your father more?"

Zosia's brows furrowed for a second, then she looked down at her plate. "He didn't put you up to this, did he?"

"Oh no! No...it's just...well, he talks about you sometimes, and you...well, you can tell he misses you."

"Of course, I'd forgotten...you, he, and Uncle Jesse are all great chums now." Zosia smirked. "Keeping up with the all night drinking sessions, are we?"

Arthur put his head in his hands. "Don't remind me...I have to keep thinking up excuses to get away. How can they do that, then perform ludicrously complicated surgery the next day?"

Dominic grinned at Zosia. "Based on both of you, the Marches/Selfs seem to be able to put away a truly staggering amount."

"Dad's always been something of a hedonist," said Zosia.

"Wow, that doesn't sound like you at _all_," said Dominic with a smirk.

Zosia ignored him. However, what Arthur had said stuck with her. Maybe what she had at the moment wasn't all she needed. Maybe there was something missing.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>A normal enough shift passed, and as she stood in the locker room, buttoning her shirt, Zosia was lost in her own mind. Maybe the dreams were a message. Maybe it was her own subconscious trying to tell her something - that she was lost? No, too literal. That she needed to help someone? That didn't seem right either - she helped people every day (or at least tried to). That she was trapped?<p>

_Trapped._

She paused in her buttoning. Maybe that was it! Maybe she'd been so caught up in complicated interpretations and trying to analyse the deeper meaning that she'd missed the most obvious one. She _was_ trapped, and knew the way to get free.

Never being one to back down from a course of action she felt to be right, she made her way through the corridors, finally reaching the CEO's office. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door - having learnt from bitter experience that barging in was rarely helpful to her own mental health - and waited for the invitation to enter.

When it came, she attempted her most upbeat expression and walked in. Her father looked up from his desk in surprise. Opposite him, Colette looked up from her own desk wearing a similar expression. "Zoshie," he said, an air of slight confusion in his voice. "To what do I owe this surprise visit? Hopefully _not_ for you to tell me you've flagrantly violated the rules again in service of your moral compass."

A bitter comeback came up Zosia's throat, but she forced it back down. "I was hoping we could talk," she said levelly, trying to keep her expression upbeat.

Colette raised an eyebrow. "Look, Zosh, if you and Guy are going to _talk_, give me some warning so I can take refuge in Pulses."

"No, no," said Zosia quickly. "Nothing like that." She turned to Guy. "Look, we've been getting on lately, haven't we?"

"We haven't _not_ been getting on."

"For you two, that's practically a party," muttered Colette.

"So I was just thinking," continued Zosia, "that it's been so long since we talked. You know, _really_ talked. Not since before...well, you know. And I thought it would be...nice."

"Nice," said her father incredulously.

Zosia's face burned in embarrassment. This was stupid. She should just go now and salvage at least _some_ of her dignity. "Forget..."

"I'd love to," interrupted Guy, smiling. "I was supposed to meet the other Rat Packers later on..." (Both Zosia and Colette audibly snorted at the reference, and shared a smile.) "...But they'll understand, I think."

Zosia took a metaphorical breath of relief. She really hadn't expected that to go so well.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>Guy sank into the booth with an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, darling - had to get some reports finished up. You know how it is."<p>

Zosia sipped her wine and fought back her natural inclination to make a snarky comment. She was making an effort to build bridges, she reminded herself. "It's fine."

Her father waved over a waiter and ordered a drink. Turning back to Zosia, he smiled. "I have to admit, I was a _little_ surprised that you wanted to get a drink. Well, a drink with me at least - Dr. Digby assures me that you're quite fond of a drink most of the time."

"Look who's talking. Anyway, you really shouldn't be using Arthur as a way to spy on me, you know."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Guy, mock-offended. "Dr. Digby is simply terrible at holding things back - in fact, he often just blurts things out. That's how I found out about you and him, for instance."

"There is no 'me and him'," retorted Zosia. "We're just friends and roommates, and sometimes...there's other benefits. It's not a big deal."

"Very businesslike."

"You're forgetting who I learned that from."

Guy frowned. "Are we arguing? Because I'm sure you said something about getting together for talking, _not_ arguing."

Zosia took a deep breath. He was right - this hadn't been why she wanted to have this get-together. Her father just had this way of _getting_ to her, of bringing out this worst in her. She took a moment to collect herself, then smiled. "You're right. Sorry. I just...since Mama died, I've been so _angry_..."

"You've always been angry," said Guy with a smile. "So passionate and fearless."

"...And I was aiming it all at you, and I'm realising that now..."

"Only now?"

Zosia looked up at Guy. "I missed so much," she said softly. "Getting to say goodbye...the funeral..."

"That was how your mother wanted it."

"I know...I'm not blaming you..." At Guy's glance, she added: "Any more. But the fact remains that I missed that, and I need...closure on that part of my life. You understand that, don't you?"

"Of _course_ I do." Guy reached to take Zosia's hands. "But you have to understand, it's raw for me too. I know it's been over a year now, but...it was difficult for me...seeing her like that, and afterwards, I was alone..."

_By choice_, Zosia wanted to yell. _At the bottom of a bottle_, she wanted to spit at him. _I needed you and you left me alone. I came home from medical school and my mother was dead and buried, my father was a drunken mess, and I thought we could help each other, and you pushed me away._

She swallowed the bile back down into her throat. There had been enough screaming matches between the two of them. Now was the time to build bridges - to try to understand what her father had gone though as well, and maybe help each other through this now, like they should have done before. Show some empathy - after all, Mr. Levy was always telling her she needed to work on that. "I understand," she said, with a forced smile. "Let's just talk then, you and me, and maybe later we can talk about Mama?"

"Later...yes." Her father turned away from her as his drink arrived.

Zosia reached for her drink, and kept her smile pasted on. The dinner continued - they ate, drank, chatted about work. It was a perfectly pleasant dinner between father and daughter - not exactly as planned, but it was certainly a start. All she needed to do was be patient - although being patient wasn't really one of her strong suits.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>Pulses coffee shop was known for mediocre coffee and worse muffins, but it had one large advantage - it was the only place within a reasonable distance of Holby City hospital that served fresh coffee. And, since medical professionals practically ran on coffee, it always did a roaring trade. Any time one wanted to find a missing member of staff, Pulses was always the first place to look. Which is exactly what Zosia did, sliding into an empty seat opposite Colette, who was sorting through pages of reports in between sips of coffee. At Zosia's arrival, she looked up, a surprised look on her face. "Zosh? What's happened now?"<p>

"Why," said Zosia irritably, "does everyone assume something's gone horribly wrong whenever I show up? Is it so unbelievable that I simply want to catch up with people I've known most of my life?"

"It's a little unbelievable, yes," said Colette, "considering that I've barely had more than a few grunts and snide remarks from you since I started here. And a drunken breakdown, of course."

Zosia flushed red as she remembered the anniversary of her mother's death. "Thanks for not mentioning that to anyone," she mumbled.

"What was that?" Colette cupped her ear. "Almost sounded like something nice - that can't be right, though."

Once again, Zosia's instinct was to snap something pithy and storm off. However, once again, she fought the instinct. _Building bridges and empathy_, she reminded herself. "I do just want to talk, believe it or not. I mean, we were friendly at one point, weren't we?"

"A while ago, but yes." Colette sighed. "I miss that girl, you know. The bratty, precocious, brilliant, driven, but still friendly, funny and smiling girl."

"Not the bitter, angry, cold one, then?" said Zosia softly.

"That isn't what I said."

"I know what you meant thought...and you're right." She tilted her head up to meet Colette's eyes. "I'm...trying to work through this. That's why I wanted to speak to Dad yesterday...why I'm talking to you now. I know things can't be as...they were, but I miss those days too..."

"It's about time," said Colette, but her tone was warmer. "What did you want to talk about?"

Zosia sipped at her own coffee nervously. "When I was away...at medical school, and Mama...you know..."

"It was what she wanted. At least, that's what Guy said." Colette shook her head. "It didn't sound like the Anya I knew, but working in hospitals for twenty years - I'd seen it before...terminal illnesses make you see the world differently. Make you take actions that you'd never thought you'd take."

"That was the time I wanted to talk about. About what it...what _she_ was like at...at the end." Zosia looked down at the table. "If it's not too hard...I know she was your friend."

"I miss her too," said Colette softly. "But...I didn't see her much then. Guy and her kept themselves to themselves for the most part, and I didn't want to intrude. They had a limited time together, and I thought they just wanted to make the most of it. So...I let them. I didn't see Guy afterwards until the funeral...and by then he was already..."

"In the bottom of a bottle." Zosia tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but didn't entirely succeed. She closed her eyes and shook her head "I'm sorry...I'm trying, I really am. What was it like? The funeral?"

Colette shrugged. "Fairly typical. It was a nice service. Closed coffin. I was worried Guy might...make a scene, but he didn't. It was...nice - she'd have liked it."

Zosia gave a small smile. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry I can't help you any more, but like I said, you'd have to ask Guy."

"I have. He says he's not ready to talk about it yet."

"He probably isn't - you're not the only one that was devastated by it."

_At least he got to say goodbye_, Zosia wanted to yell, but held herself back. "I know. I'm...giving him time."

Colette raised her eyebrows. "Is this a new and improved Zosia? Did you cut down on caffeine or something?" At Zosia's snort, she grinned. "Kidding, Zosh. I'm really glad you're making the effort to get along. And so are the patients - they _were_ complaining that the constant yelling matches weren't great for recovery."

"They can just go to Darwin for that now."

Colette groaned. "Don't remind me...I have the horrible feeling I backed the wrong horse in _that_ race."

Zosia clocked her head to one side. "Didn't want to say anything, but...yes, quite possibly." At that, she quickly had to jerk to one side to avoid the slightly stale chocolate muffin that flew from Colette's hand.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>"I'm just saying," said Arthur nervously, "that I watched the film, like you both suggested, and I...well, that is..."<p>

Jesse turned to look at him as they walked through Keller Ward. "Speak up, Frank - don't be afraid to speak your mind. Fortune favours the bold, right?"

Arthur stopped and scratched his head. "Um. The thing is, that while I understand the appeal and chemistry of the leads, and certainly, having them all in one film would have been a big draw...that being said...the film itself...is kind of terrible."

Jesse cocked his head to one side. "Terrible?"

"Terrible is actually sort of a harsh way to put it," sputtered Arthur. "It's more...amateurish? Or lazy?"

"That sounds even harsher."

"And you understand that I'm not criticizing people who...um..._like_ the film or anything. We all have tastes in art...and things...that other people might find stupid..."

Jesse frowned. "My taste in films is stupid?"

Arthur held his hands up in a placatory way. "No! No, of course not...that was a...poor choice of words. As I said, I'm _of course_ in no way criticizing..."

"He's teasing you, Arthur." The two men turned to see Zosia standing behind them, her arms folded. "Anyway, you're right - it's a juvenile, sexist, badly made piece of rubbish. And Ocean's 11 is the _best_ of the Rat Pack movies - it's all downhill from there."

"Zosh..." Jesse shook his head. "How could we have failed so badly to instil the greatness of the Pack into you?"

"Forcing me to watch the films well into double figures did _not_ help."

"Next you'll be telling me the Clooney version was better." At Zosia's smirk, Jesse laughed. "Don't let Selfie hear you say that, or your medical career is _over_."

Arthur raised his arm weakly. "Ah...does this mean I'm excused from watching Robin and the Seven Hoods?"

Jesse draped his arm over Arthur's shoulder. "It's part of your training, Digby. Report back to me tomorrow with what you've learnt."

Arthur nodded reluctantly, and walked off. Jesse turned back to Zosia, who was shaking her head. "That poor boy. What did he ever do to deserve you and Dad?"

"We're making a man out of him! Bringing him out of his shell! Besides," Jesse gave her a significant look, "I could also ask what he'd done to deserve _you_."

"Hilarious." Zosia paused, looking around the ward nervously for a few seconds. It was a quiet day - the ward was half-empty. What patients there were dozed quietly, while nurses and HCAs busied themselves with their various duties. She looked back to Jesse. "Are you busy? Because I want to talk to you."

"What's happened now? Oh God, you're not pregnant, are you? Is it Digby's? Because if it is, I'm not sure he's ready for the demands of parenthood..."

"Uncle Jesse!" Zosia glanced around quickly to make sure no-one had heard her snap. Luckily, no-one had, or if they had, they were hiding it very well. "I'm _not_ pregnant, and anyway, Arthur and I haven't slept together in _months_..."

Jesse raised his hands. "TMI, girl. What did you want, then?"

"If you're not busy, can we go somewhere more private?" At his nod, Zosia led them to the staff room. Jesse took a seat, and she followed. Once settled, she took a deep breath. "I know you and Dad are great friends..."

"Where's this going?"

"Nowhere bad, I promise. I'm just..." Zosia rubbed her temple. "I want to fix things..."

"You know he wants the same, right?"

"I know...or at least, I'm trying to." She sighed. "We've never really been close, he and I. It was always Mama and me. But she's..." _Don't let your voice crack_, she told herself. "Gone...and she always said family was the most important thing. So I'm trying to achieve some sort of closure on Mama's death, and then me and Dad...well, maybe we can be a normal father and daughter? I don't know...I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"It's fine, "said Jesse warmly. "I understand. What did you want to talk to me for, then?"

"When I was...away..." Zosia held back the tirade that was always lurking right at the front of her mind. "What were they like, during that time? What did I miss?" _What did he __**make**__ me miss_, she bit back. No tirades - not any more.

Jesse took her hand. "Zosh...I'd love to help out - but I wasn't there. I hadn't see your Mum and Dad for about a year before I got here. We'd just drifted apart. I'd tried to get in touch after Anya died, but...well, Colette tells me he wasn't exactly taking calls from anyone at that point."

"No - not from _anyone_." Zosia cursed herself. "Sorry, sorry...I'm trying."

"It's fine. Sorry I can't be of more help."

She gave a thin smile. "It's okay..."

"You should talk to Guy about it."

"I tried...he isn't really ready to talk about it, he said."

"He probably isn't...it hit him really hard."

"I know." She looked up at Jesse. "I'm working on the empathy thing, I really am. And I can't really fault him for not being over it - God knows _I'm_ not."

Jesse smiled. "See? _That's_ empathy, right there. Keep working on it, you might even pass the Turing Test one of these days."

Zosia flicked him a rude gesture. "And while his methods of coping - namely drinking and fucking - probably aren't ideal, I can't really criticise him for it, since those are pretty much my methods of coping as well." She tried to keep the edge from her voice, but wasn't very successful.

"Whoa!" Jesse sat back in his chair. "This conversation is going to kind of a weird place."

"Uncle Jesse, come on. I'm twenty-seven - can't we just talk about things as adults?" At Jesse's look, she pouted. "I'm not having a go at him, I swear."

Jesse appeared to be searching for the right words for a few seconds. "I'm not sure I should be talking about this with you," he said finally.

"I'm not going to let anything you say get back to him, honest." She paused. "I mean, unless we get into a screaming match again and I blurt everything out, but I've been getting better at those." At Jesse's incredulous look, she smiled. "I'm joking."

"Humour is _not_ your strong suit." Jesse sighed. "Look, your Dad's methods are what works for him, and they _seem_ to be working."

"I said I wasn't criticising them!" Zosia paused and took a deep breath. She'd wanted to talk about her mother, about the time she'd missed. But, if she was honest with herself, there were other things she needed to deal with. She shook her head. "I'm lying. To you, to myself, to everyone. I'm really _not_ okay with all of that."

"I didn't think you were. Your poker face isn't what it was." He sat back. "So tell me - what exactly aren't you cool with?"

"Him fucking all those other women! Mama wasn't even dead a year before he started - that bitch O'Malley, and I _know_ he's fucking Connie Beauchamp. And those are just the two I know about. God knows how many others there were!" Zosia realised she was shouting, and clamped her mouth shut, trying to calm herself. After a minute, she exhaled loudly. "Wow. That felt _good_. I hadn't realised how much I'd been holding that in."

Jesse stared at her incredulously. "Probably better you directed that at me, rather than, say, the head of the board."

"Been there, done that."

"So I heard. Feeling better?"

Zosia nodded. "Actually, yes."

Jesse sat back in his chair. "Okay. At the risk of getting another tirade..."

"Sorry."

"Guy has always...been very similar to you. Which makes sense, I suppose."

"We're nothing alike," said Zosia, but she knew it wasn't true.

"He's always enjoyed...the pleasures of the flesh..." Jesse chuckled nervously. "This feels so weird, talking about this with you."

Zosia smiled weakly. "Please. It might be what I need."

"Okay." Jesse took a deep breath. "And he's always had a very...dispassionate approach to sex. Again, just like..." He gestured to Zosia. "Anya and him, though - that was _love_, not just sex - they had a real connection. But it makes sense that after she was gone, he'd fall into...you know...what he liked. Just...more of it." He sighed. "And it doesn't mean he doesn't still love your mum - he's just...distracting himself."

Zosia was silent for a few minutes, reflecting on what Jesse had said. Eventually, she nodded. "You're right," she said softly. "And like I said, I can't criticise him for it...not when it's what I do. I just...I just can't help myself feeling this way. It feels different now - not like it did before Mama died."

Jesse coughed awkwardly. "What do you mean?"

Zosia fixed him with a withering look. "Don't patronise me - I'm not an idiot. I know he was screwing around with other women even before she got sick, and that you were his...what's the term? 'Wingman'."

"Which you seem strangely calm about..."

"Like you said - dispassionate. It's just sex." She shrugged. "She knew about it and was okay with it. It's what worked for them. I just...have to process that it's okay for him to do it _now_. And I'm working on that."

Jesse chuckled and shook his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, Zosh, but your family's messed up."

Zosia slumped back in her chair wearily. "Tell me about it."

Jesse was silent for a moment, processing something in his mind. "So...is he _really_ sticking it to Beauchamp?"

"Oh come _on_." Zosia snorted. "Have you seen the two of them together? It's not even subtle!"

"Gotta give the man respect, though - that's one classy piece of tail."

"Uncle Jesse!"

Jesse held his hands up placatingly. "Sorry, sorry - forgot who I was talking to. That was inappropriate."

_Most things with my family seem to be_, thought Zosia glumly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

It was cold here, and she was clad only in her nightshirt, stumbling around blindly, lost and confused. The overpowering smell of vanilla filled her nostrils, but not enough to completely drown out the stench of rotting flesh, forcing her to try to keep from retching constantly. Dull brick corridors stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions, leading into darkness. It was no ordinary darkness, though - it was _shifting_, constantly moving, as if what lay at the end of those passages was fluid, always in flux.

The passages were lit by a blue phosphoresce that seemed to come _through_ the walls, through the gaps between the bricks. Curious sounds came from all around her, some unknowable, some all too familiar. The distant sound of crying was everywhere, as were screams - the sounds of suffering, of pain. But the most distinct sound of all was a single voice. One that was crying a two word phrase constantly, again and again, trying to be heard, trying vainly to get someone - _anyone - _to answer, to fulfil the desperate request.

The phrase was 'Help me'.

Zosia sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air. She was drenched in sweat, and clambered out of bed, stumbling over to the window to seek some comfort from the cool nighttime air. After some clumsy fumbling, the window slid open, and she tried to catch her breath as the cold breeze cooled her clammy skin. When she was satisfied that she could breathe normally again, she turned from the window - a quick feel of her flannel nightshirt revealing it to be uncomfortably damp - and pulled a t-shirt from her drawer, quickly exchanging one for the other.

Walking into the kitchen, she opened the fridge and surveyed her options for a drink. Wine was tempting, but unwise at three in the morning. Coffee was also tempting, but hardly conducive to getting back to sleep. In the end, she settled for bottled water, and slumped down at the kitchen table to process her current situation.

It had been over a week since she'd had that dream - from before she'd talked to Jesse and Colette. Why was it returning now? Surely she was in a better place? She was trying to move on, she was trying to rebuild broken relationships - what else did she need to do?

Her mind turned to Jesse and Colette - she'd known them both since she was twelve - constant colleagues and friends of her parents. She was filled with happy memories of shared holidays, impromptu advice sessions from both of them, begging Colette to keep embarrassing secrets from her parents, and much more. Jesse was kind of a rogue, and possibly something of a philanderer, but he was kind, and funny, and always knew how to make her smile. _Notoriously bad at choosing presents, though_, she thought with a smile, thinking of the train set. Colette wasn't as warm - she had a brusque, almost dismissive manner sometimes - but she was loyal and had a cast-iron moral code. Zosia remembered the times Colette had comforted her after bad break-ups, the times she had tried to warn her away from undesirable partners, and the time Zosia had begged her to keep quiet after she had caught Zosia smoking.

Thinking of Colette made Zosia guilty. She was still friendly with Jesse, but her relationship with the other woman had suffered after her mother's death, only improving now. She had been terrible to Colette when she'd turned up at Holby, and she wasn't sure why. Had she been jealous of the closeness between her and Guy? it wasn't romantic closeness, she knew that - Colette had always been far too sensible to fall for Guy's charms - but it had felt like Guy had turned to Colette instead of Zosia, and that had hurt. That wasn't Colette's fault, though, and Zosia was glad that they were getting along more now.

After some deliberation, Zosia decided the problem had to be her father's reticence to talk. It was what was bothering her - it _had_ to be. Tomorrow she would try to talk to him some more, and see if he was ready to open up. It would be better for him too, surely?

As she was thinking, one of the other bedroom doors opened and Arthur paddled out, squinting at her as he put his glasses on. "I thought I saw a light on," he said groggily. "Thought maybe someone had left it on, and I should come and turn it off - I mean, electricity isn't getting any cheaper..."

"Couldn't sleep. Sorry for waking you."

"Oh no, it's okay." Arthur sat down opposite her. "Worried about something? I think work's going all right - for you, that is - and...oh dear - has something else happened? It's not like that guy you overdosed with viagra, is it?" He turned around, suddenly in a panic. "They're not still here, are they?"

Zosia scowled at him. "First of all, I didn't overdose that man with viagra - he did it himself. And secondly, no, there isn't anyone here I've injured in a sexual mishap. But, thank you for your high opinion of me."

Arthur scratched his head and paused awkwardly. "Um. Sorry. So...why can't you sleep?"

"Bad dreams."

"Want to...ah...talk about it?"

"Not really."

"It could help?"

Zosia placed her head in her hands. "I don't know, Arthur...it's like...one step forward, two steps back...I try to fix things and it doesn't work...I stay away and it doesn't work." She sat back in her chair. "Every little bit of progress I make is _so_ hard, and nothing seems to..." She tailed off as Arthur's eyes glazed over at something. "Arthur? Are you listening to me?" She looked down to where he was looking, and realised the white t-shirt she'd chosen was a very sheer one. "God, Arthur, are you staring at my breasts?"

"What?" Arthur looked up suddenly. "God! No - I mean, I'm tired and I must have dozed off, and besides, I've already seen them...not that they're not...you know...very attractive and all..."

Zosia sighed and stood up. "Good night, Arthur. Sorry for waking you up." She walked to her room, calling out behind her: "And stop staring at my bum!"

Closing her door to Arthur's muffled shouts of denial, she flopped down onto her bed. Tomorrow she'd talk to her dad again, get him to open up. It was what they both needed, after all, wasn't it?

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>"I said <em>no<em>!"

Zosia stood back, surprised at the force behind Guy's words. A quick glance to Colette revealed that she was equally shocked. "I'm sorry..." she stammered. "I thought...I thought you might want...be ready to talk."

In his anger, Guy had stood up, knocking his chair over from the sudden, violent movement. He leant over his desk towards her. "When I _am_ ready, I'll let you know, all right? Until then, drop it!"

"I just thought...it might help both of us..."

"It won't help me. It will just remind of that time, of what she was going through...you weren't there..."

"And whose fault was that?" yelled Zosia, suddenly overcome with anger.

"Your mother's!" spat back Guy. "I just did what she wanted, no matter how much it tore me apart!"

"I _thought _we could help each other..." snapped Zosia.

"Guy..." said Colette softly, "she might have a point."

Guy softened a little, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, darling...it's just..."

But it was too late. The rage that Zosia had been holding back had spilt out, and she couldn't plug the gap now. "Forget it," she snarled. "I don't need this, and I don't need _you_!" She strode out of the office, ignoring anything the other two might have been saying, and slammed the door hard behind her. As she made her way down the stairs, angry tears pricking at her eyes, she couldn't keep from yelling at herself in her head. _Stupid girl,_ she thought. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! _Why did she always do this? Fly off the handle, let her mouth run away with itself? Hadn't she been trying to stop herself from doing this very thing?

Now she was back to square one - she was hurting, her father was hurting, their relationship was in the toilet once again, and any chance they had of moving on was dashed for now. Even in her anger, Zosia realised she had been out of line - she'd pushed it, tried to make her father do something he hadn't been ready to do, and when it hadn't gone her way, she'd exploded. _Classic me, in other words._

The damage was done now, though, and her stupid, silly pride prevented her from going back to apologise. As she walked through the car park, she realised she was heading for Albie's - her subconscious mind no doubt already planning to drown her sorrows. _Like father, like daughter_, she thought ruefully.

Before she reached the bar and the promise of blissfully intoxicated oblivion, she forced herself to stop. _No,_ she thought, _getting drunk isn't going to help. _ What she _should_ do was go back, apologise to her father, and talk things over like adults, but her stubbornness made that impossible right now, no matter how much she regretted her outburst. Unsure of what direction to take now, Zosia stood on the pavement, letting the summer breeze cool her down. She rummaged in her pockets for a handkerchief to wipe her eyes, and as she did so, her keys fell to the ground. Cursing, she knelt down and picked them up, her eyes falling on one neglected key in particular as she did so. An idea that her rational mind instantly dismissed as ludicrous flashed through her head.

Zosia stood up again, shaking her head. No - that was possibly the worst idea she'd had in some time. In no way should she even consider doing that. Unfortunately, bad ideas and stubbornness were something that went hand in hand when it came to her...

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>The house stood in stark contrast to the bright blue sky around it, the spring evening still bright even at this hour. It would have been more appropriate had it been overcast - had the sky been ominous and grey, the threat of a storm hanging in the air. It would have matched how Zosia felt, standing at the gate to the house she had considered a home for almost all of her life, yet had not been within a mile of it in over a year. How did something that once held such comfort - such safety - to her, now fill her with dread, twisting her stomach in knots at the very sight of it?<p>

The answer was obvious, of course. It was because of what had happened on one of the last times she had been here.

_The taxi pulled up in front of the house, and Zosia got out, hefting her bag behind her. She pulled a few notes from her wallet and handed them to the driver without looking at them or him, then turned back to the house. At the sound of a throat clearing, she turned back to the driver. "What?" she asked irritably. "Come on, that must have been enough."_

_"Where's the tip?"_

_"Tip?" She snorted. "You should give me one, given the quality of your driving. You're lucky I didn't puke all over your seat." She burped. "Sorry - wow, I should _not _have had that last martini on the plane. But hey, it was a celebration, right?"_

_The taxi driver did not reply. His gaze remained stony. "Tip," he said firmly._

_"God!" Zosia dropped her bag, turned to the taxi driver, and pulled up her t-shirt and bra, holding them up for a few moments, then pulling them back down. "Okay - got a good look? Great - I think that should cover it."_

_The taxi driver was speechless. Zosia took that as agreement and picked up her bag, heading through the gates to the house._

Zosia paused at the door. Was this wrong? She still had her key, so of course it wasn't breaking and entering - plus it was her family's home, so she had a right to be here, and yet...it still felt like a intrusion of sorts. It wasn't really the family home anymore, was it? It was her father's house now. She had her own place, and her mother...wasn't here anymore. Maybe she should ask her father before going in.

However, he probably wasn't in the mood for talking right now, and neither was Zosia. This might be the best course of action - maybe by going back in here, she could find out more about her mother's last days without having to bother her father. He'd appreciate that, right? He wouldn't even have to know - she doubted he'd be home for some time, and she'd be long gone by then. In fact, she half suspected that he slept at the hospital sometimes. It would make sense - he probably had the same mixed feelings about the house as she did.

All the rationalisation in the world didn't get rid of the churning in Zosia's stomach as she raised the key to the door. She paused, took a deep breath and slid it into the lock. She couldn't run forever.

_Zosia slammed the door behind her, and dropped her bag to the floor. "Mama! Dad! Zoshie's home! I know I might sound a **little**_ _tipsy, but that's okay - exams went great, so I'm celebrating!"_

_There was no answer. Zosia frowned and walked through the hallway._

_Normally her mother would be here to meet her - her dad not being here was pretty much par for the course - but there was no sign of either of them. Confused, she made her way through the house, calling out for anyone to answer her._

As soon as Zosia set foot into the house, a wave of emotions overwhelmed her - she couldn't count the times she'd walked in here to be greeted by her mother, always waiting for her at the base of the stairs, a huge smile on her face and a reassuring hug to greet her. In fact, this had been the last place she'd seen her mother alive. The taxi to bring her to the airport had been outside, and she'd hugged her mother on the doorstep, telling her not to worry about her - that she was fine at medical school, that she'd call every day, that she wasn't overwhelmed by the prospect of her exams. Had she told her mother that she loved her? Zosia couldn't remember - she hoped she had. Then she'd waved goodbye, got into the taxi and sped off, never imagining that she'd never see her mother again.

Had her mother known then that the cancer had returned? Had her father known? Had they both said their goodbyes that day knowing that she'd never see Zosia again? She _had_ to know. She had to_ understand._

_Zosia wandered into the kitchen, to find her father sitting at the table. "At last!" she said irritably. "I've been calling for, like, ever! What is _up_ with you?"_

_There was no answer. Zosia saw that her father had a glass in his hand which he downed in one gulp, instantly refilling it from an almost-empty bottle of whiskey on the table. He repeated the gesture, and Zosia realised that the room _stank_ of alcohol. "Jesus, Dad - how much have you drank? Don't tell me you and Mama have had another stupid fight again? What was it about this time? Being indiscreet? Spending too much time at the hospital? All the usual shit?"_

_Guy didn't answer, much to Zosia's annoyance. Just before she was about to grill him for answers, the kitchen door opened and Colette walked in. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and they widened in surprise when she saw the new arrival. "Zosh..." she said softly. "I forgot you got back today."_

_"Yeah, seems like a lot of people have." She jerked her thumb at her father. "What's up with him, and where's Mama?" Something didn't seem quite right. "Hang on...what are you doing here?"_

_Colette walked over and gently took Zosia's hands in her own. "Zosia..." she said softly. "Something's happened...it's about Anya...your mother..."_

_Zosia's mind reeled and tears filled her eyes. "No," she said quietly. "No, please..."_

_"It was the cancer...it came back..."_

_Zosia shook her head. "No, no...that's not right...she would have told me...she would have said **something!** This is just a sick joke." She looked at Guy. "Tell me this is just a joke!"_

_He didn't say anything, merely downed his glass again._

_"Zosh..." The sound of Colette's voice made Zosia turn to face her again. Tears were running freely down her face. "I'm so, so, sorry."_

_Shaking her head, Zosia tried to somehow figure some way this could possibly not be happening, but the inescapable, horrible truth finally hit her. Her mother was dead._

_And Zosia screamed._

Tears ran down Zosia's face as she sat at the kitchen table, head in hands, sobbing at the memory. It was as raw now as it had been a year ago. When she was here, it was as if she had never left that moment, never left this room.

That was the problem, wasn't it? She _had_ never left this room, not really. What had happened here had defined her life from that point on - no matter what she did, no matter where she went, no matter how much she drank, or how many people she fucked, she was always still here, a little girl sobbing about the death of her mother.

Composing herself, she forced herself to get up. This ended today - today she was going to move beyond this place - she was going to deal with her issues (or at least start the process). She couldn't keep this up - at various times over the past year she'd felt on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Something had to change.

It was strange walking through the house again after so long, mused Zosia as she ascended the stairs. It felt familiar, yet somehow _not_ - as if the memories she had from here had happened to someone else, in another life. At the top of the stairs, her parents' room was at the end of the corridor. Reaching the doorway, she held out her hand to the doorknob, but stopped just shy of it, her hand clenching involuntarily. She wanted to go inside but...no.

_No, not the bedroom,_ she thought. Making a clandestine visit to the house was one thing - invading her parents' private space was another thing entirely. Going into the bedroom was one step too far.

As Zosia turned away, she saw the door to her mother's study was slightly ajar. Walking over to it, she pushed the door open and stepped inside, smiling at the mass of papers covering her mother's desk, the bookshelf, with the books filed in an baffling order - one that would make sense only to her mother, and the CDs scattered around, on top of, and sticking out from beneath the CD player. Her mother had never really been one for organisation. She was glad her father and the cleaning staff had left the room as it was - a tidy, orderly room wouldn't have been like her mother at all. She supposed that her father must have ordered it to be left like that - he probably couldn't bear the idea of anyone disrupting it - and for that, she would have to thank him. This room - so much like her mother - was doing nothing but making her feel better.

A hard-bound notebook was sitting open on the desk. Zosia took a quick glance at the page, mentally translating the Polish text. With a start, she realised what it was - a volume of her mother's diary - and it was open to the final entry, dated just a few days before her death.

Zosia whirled around in shock, hands to her mouth. She was in no way ready to read _that _at this time. The thought surprised her - did that mean she was prepared to read it in the future? It was her mother's diary - her most private, innermost thoughts. Surely it would be a violation of her privacy to read it?

On the other hand, it would help Zosia understand what had gone on with her mother right before her death - it would help her to finally see how her mother felt about keeping it from Zosia, how she had come to the decision to keep it secret. It could help Zosia finally put the past to rest and move on with her life.

Looking at the book, Zosia made a decision - she grabbed the book and shoved it under her arm. She might not be ready to read it now, but that would change, and she might not get another chance to get it. As for the privacy issue...well, if she knew her father, he'd already read it - and if he could read it, why couldn't she? The justification was flimsy, even by Zosia's standards, but she'd set her mind on this course of action, and there was no turning back now.

It was time to leave. Finding the diary had galvanised her, reassured her that the trip had not been in vain - that it was the key to her peace of mind. She was suddenly worried that her father would return and prevent her from taking it, so it was time to get out. As she hurried towards the door, something caught her eye, something sitting on top of one of the bookshelves in the room.

It was a box, not much larger than a Rubik's Cube. Zosia paused in her exit and picked it up, drawn to its unusual design and its incongruity with the rest of the room. It was a black and lacquered, with complex gold etchings on each of its six faces. She'd never seen it before, certainly not in this house. As she turned it around to examine it, the light bounced off the gold etchings and the black lacquered surfaces, creating odd patterns on the Box. It was absolutely beautiful.

Zosia didn't know why, but she stuffed the Box into her coat pocket. For some reason, she felt compelled to take it with her. Was it her mother's? Her father's? She didn't know - she just knew she had to bring it with her. She hurried down the stairs and out the front door, locking it behind her. As she closed the gate behind her and prepared to turn the corner to the next street, she heard a noise behind her, turning to see her father's car pull up to the gates.

She slipped around the corner quickly, hoping he hadn't seen her. It didn't appear that he had, as he waited for the gate to open and drove through, not calling out to her, or signalling that he had seen her at all. Zosia took a deep breath, looked at the diary still tucked under her arm, smiled, and walked towards home.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>Close examination of the Box yielded no answers. It seemed to be one solid piece, with no clues as to what its purpose may be - if indeed it had one beyond the aesthetic. If not - that purpose, Zosia thought, was one it fulfilled admirably. When she let the light dance over the surfaces, she imagined she could see shapes in the black spaces between the gold etchings. A trick of the eye, obviously, but one that must have been intended.<p>

As she was gazing at it, Arthur wandered by the open bedroom door, toothbrush in hand on the way to the bathroom. He paused as his eyes caught the Box and they widened in excitement.

"Oh, wow!" he said, walking into the room eagerly, setting himself down on the bed beside Zosia. "Where did you get _that?_"

"Do you mind?" When he gave no answer, she sighed. "I suppose not. It's an...heirloom. It was my mother's." _Probably, anyway._

"It's incredible," said Arthur, gazing intently at the Box.

"Do you know what it is, then?"

Arthur looked up at Zosia in confusion. "Do you not?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't..."

"Yes, yes, of course. It's a puzzle box. I think. Certainly looks like one."

Zosia frowned and examined the Box intently. "So it opens? I've been looking at it all day, and I can't see any way of opening it."

"Well, if it was easy to open, it wouldn't be much of a puzzle, would it?"

"Hilarious."

Arthur leaned over and pointed at the gold etchings. "If I had to guess, I'd imagine that there are tiny pressure points and mechanisms on the surface of the Box. You probably have to be concentrating _really_ hard to even notice the movements. I mean, some of the puzzle boxes I've seen require over fifteen _hundred_ movements to open them."

Zosia repeated the figure incredulously, and Arthur nodded. "You said this was your mother's? Do you know where she got it?"

"No. Sorry. I just found it at the house."

"Oh! You've...ah...been round to the house? I didn't think you'd been back there since...well, you know. Does that mean things are better between you and Mr. Self? That is a relief, because you know, with me and him being on the same team now, it was awkward when you two were arguing, because I was in the middle, and..."

"He doesn't...know that I was there," said Zosia gingerly. At Arthur's exasperated gasp, she continued: "And it would be really nice of you _not_ to tell him that."

"Okay...just when I thought things were getting easier, they suddenly get a whole lot harder." Arthur sighed. "I'll keep quiet." He gestured to the Box. "About that - you wouldn't mind if I...well, I'd love to have a crack at solving it..."

"No!" Zosia was shocked by her snapping - as was Arthur from the look of it. "I'm sorry, Arthur - I'm just tired. But...it's an heirloom, like I said. I'd just really prefer not to have anyone else mess with it right now." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for keeping quiet."

Arthur blushed, made some indistinct comment about it not being a problem, and left. Zosia set the Box on her cabinet, and got ready for bed.

The Box stayed in her thoughts that night.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>When she arrived at the hospital the next morning, Zosia was dreading seeing her father. She'd never been very good at being humble, and it was even worse when her father was involved. As it turned out, she didn't even have to go to his office - he was standing in the lobby, impressing a group of junior doctors (female, Zosia noted, with a lack of surprise) with some of his favourite card tricks.<p>

Zosia sighed. He'd always been obssessed with stupid magic tricks - he'd even tried to teach her some, but she'd never been interested. It had always delighted her mother, though. Mentally steeling herself, she walked over to him, calling to get his attention.

At the sound of his name being called, Guy turned around to see Zosia walking up to him. "Well..." he said evenly. "I've got an important meeting first thing with the board, so if you could perhaps keep the screaming at me until _after_ the meeting, that would really help my mood."

"I'm not going to scream at me you." Zosia paused, not quite meeting his gaze. "I actually came to...look, we both said some things we regret yesterday, I'm sure...so let's just move on, not dwell on them, and perhaps...well...we can just pretend yesterday didn't happen."

Guy smiled at her. "Why Zoshie, is that an apology?"

"Don't call me Zoshie, and...no. No, it's not an apology. Just...clearing the air. Why, were you going to apologise?"

"Oh, no." Guy shrugged. "I think we can move on, then. Maybe I'll see you later?"

"Maybe," said Zosia curtly. After an awkward pause, she gestured vaguely to the lifts. "I...I should go." Her father bid her goodbye, and she left, still not quite meeting his gaze. As she stepped into the lift, she felt the tension drift out of her and she exhaled loudly. Why was that so difficult? Surely not everyone found it that painful to be cordial to family members?

As the lift door was closing, a hand darted in between the gap, causing the doors to reopen, and Serena Campbell stepped in. "Ah, Doctor March!" she said. "I haven't seen you in some time, have I?"

"No...how have you been?"

Serena shrugged. "You know how it is. It's going well...considering the circumstances."

"I heard about your mother," said Zosia tentatively. "I'm sorry...I know how hard it can be when your mother gets sick." When Serena failed to reply, Zosia got worried. "Sorry - did I overstep the mark? I didn't mean to pry or..."

"Don't worry, Doctor March," said Serena, with a sigh. "It's just a lot to take in - I'm still trying to deal with it myself. But...your concern is noted, and appreciated. Anyway - I hear that your studies are going well. Confident about passing the year?"

"I think so."

"Good." Serena smiled. "I'm glad that you seemed to have sorted out your..._issues_. I always thought you had a great deal of potential, despite them."

Zosia smiled back. "Thank you - that means a lot. And I wouldn't say I've sorted them out, but...I'm working on it." She paused. "Speaking of that, I suppose you'll be seeing my father later on."

Serena frowned. "I hadn't planned on it...why?"

"At the meeting with the board...he mentioned it to me this morning. It seemed quite important...I thought you would have been involved."

"Well, that _was_ quite logical to think, considering I _am _deputy CEO. But no, I have _not_ been notified nor invited to said meeting." The lift stopped, and Serena gave Zosia a tight, thin-lipped smile. "Anyway, good day, Doctor March. Nice to see you again."

With that, she was gone and the lift doors closed again. Zosia leaned back against the wall, and gave a small smile. It was childish and petty, she knew, and she should be past all this by now, but it still gave her some amusement to know that she'd dropped her father right into Serena's bad books - a place that no-one relished visiting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Zosia uncorked the wine bottle and refilled her glass, setting the bottle down beside her laptop. When she'd arrived home from work that night, she'd meant to delve into her mother's diary. However, something was still holding her back. Whether it was guilt at going through her mother's private thoughts or fear that she might find unflattering comments about herself, she couldn't say - all she knew was that she could not bring herself to go through it yet. Instead, she'd turned back to her _other_ new obsession - the puzzle box she had found in her mother's study.

Since Zosia didn't know what it was called, all she'd been able to do was search images and descriptions of puzzle boxes until she found one that matched her's. Not the most efficient method of research, but she didn't really have any other ideas. After a good few hours of searching, she'd finally stumbled across a description that matched it - a description belonging to an item called the Lemarchand Configuration.

Information about it - online, at least - was minimal. All she had found so far was that it had been constructed in the late eighteenth century by a man called Lemarchand, primarily known as a maker of mechanical singing birds. The Box was quite different from his usual work and it had apparently been commissioned by someone, but no-one seemed sure who. That was essentially the only pertinent information she could find.

However, completely useless information was in _abundance_. Conspiracy theories had never been of any interest to Zosia - stories of cursed artwork or artefacts had always seemed like so much nonsense to her. The notion that, say, a diamond could be cursed or that a painting could be haunted was patent drivel. However, there was a small, but dedicated group of people online who seemed convinced that the Lemarchand Boxes were capable of being used for various nefarious purposes, and that people who owned them tended to vanish in mysterious circumstances.

It was the ravings of people with far too much time on their hands, Zosia knew. Although it was oddly interesting to read about - obviously these people had _very_ vivid imaginations. There were stories of bizarre rituals, of the many and varied uses of blood and other bodily fluids, of extreme bodily modifications - all used in conjunction with the Boxes. In fact, it was so diverting that before she knew it, it was dark outside, and Dominic was peering over her shoulder, apparently having just returned from work.

"Dominic!" she gasped in shock. "Don't creep up on me like that!"

"I didn't creep up on you," said Dominic defensively. "You're just engrossed in...well, whatever it is you're looking at online." He peered at the laptop screen. "Huh - I didn't see you as being into BDSM, but it takes all sorts, I suppose..."

"I'm...look, I just fell down a Wikipedia rabbit hole. You know how it is - you start by looking up...Eurovision winners, and by the end you're..." She shook her head. "You know what? I don't have to explain myself to you." She turned back to the computer and slammed down her laptop screen, as Dominic tried to keep reading the screen.

"The Order Of The Gash?" He raised his eyebrow to the back of Zosia's head. "Isn't that the lesbian bar in the centre of town?"

"Hilarious." Zosia reached for her neglected wine glass and downed the rest.

Dominic looked at her for a second, then grinned. "Oh...have you decided to embrace the love that dare not speak its name, and give in to that irritating radiologist woman?"

"Doctor Cowley, and she's not irritating, and..." Zosia paused. Dominic might have been joking, but he may have inadvertently had a point. All of Zosia's romantic and sexual relationships had been disasters of one type or another, and she was fast becoming perpetually stressed, unable to step away from her current problems or truly relax - always on the verge of another outburst or meltdown. Maybe she could solve both of those problems with one move. Maybe what she needed was both a distraction, and something new - something she hadn't tried before. Maybe Doctor Cowley could help her with that.

Dominic waved his hand in front of her face. "Hello? Earth to Zosia? Some form of recognition would really reassure me that you haven't just had a seizure or something."

Zosia turned to him and smiled. "You know something, Dom? I think you might just have put me on the right track."

"You're welcome? I guess?" Dominic looked at her, a concerned look on his face. "Zosh, I have to say you're acting a _little_ weird, even by your standards."

"Whatever." Zosia stood up and walked towards her bedroom, a determined grin on her face. "I've got a plan, Dom, and it's all thanks to you."

Dominic called after her. "Great - but just leave me out of it when the cops come calling, 'kay?"

Zosia didn't even bother to dignify that with a reply.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>For most of the next day, Zosia mulled over what to do and whether to go through with what she had decided the previous night. Patients came and went, and she treated them quickly and professionally, but her real focus was internal. She had always been matter-of-fact and business like about her love life (or at least, she'd tried to be), and surely this was no different? It was merely a question of whether to go ahead or not.<p>

Her plan was thus - she was turning into something of a mess at the moment, if she was completely honest. The positivity she had felt just a few short days ago had all but drained away, to be replaced with fatigue and anger. The fact she wasn't sleeping well was starting to take a toll. The possession of her mother's diary was something she had thought would help, but she'd been unable to face opening it yet. Her improving relationship with her father had stalled. What she needed was a distraction - and a new relationship was her favourite way of providing it. Well...that, and copious amounts of alcohol - but that would hardly help her fatigue, would it?

Since most of her previous relationships had ended badly - or in literal trips to the hospital - it was clear she would have to do something different this time. A same-sex relationship seemed the obvious way to mix things up a bit. Zosia had never been afraid to try new things, so why not? Doctor Cowley was clearly up for it, as she had made apparent many times, so she was the obvious candidate.

Of course, it was entirely possibly that Doctor Cowley perhaps didn't see things in quite so impersonal a way as her, but Zosia would be entirely up front about what she was doing at the start. She believed in being entirely honest about what she was expecting from a relationship or hookup. No surprises or misunderstandings - they just made things more complicated.

Her mind made up, Zosia made an immediate beeline for Radiology when her break came around. As she walked through the door, Miranda Cowley looked up and grinned as she saw who it was.

"Oh, Zosia..." She leaned back in her chair and grinned, running a hand through her purple-streaked bob of brown hair. "You should have called to let me know you were coming. I look a _right_ state, and I always try to look great for my favourite F1."

Zosia crossed her arms and shrugged. "You look pretty much the same as ever, to be honest."

"Ouch! I think...well, I'm going to take that as a compliment." Miranda glanced behind Zosia. "So, did you come down her just to tease me - _as usual - _because I can't see a patient, and I don't remember you sending me anything recently." She grinned. "Obviously you've come down just to enjoy my scintillating company - for which I can't blame you..."

"Actually," interrupted Zosia, "I was just wondering what you were doing once your shift ended."

Miranda's smiled faded, replaced with a look of confusion. "Why..?" she asked carefully.

"I thought you and I could go get some dinner." Zosia kept her tone deliberately casual. Playing the unattainable ice queen was usually her best way of getting dates. "I mean, if you're not busy, that is."

"Like a date?"

"Not _like_ a date. A date."

Miranda stared at her in silence for a few moments, clearly processing something in her head. Finally she spoke: "Are you fucking with me?"

"Not yet." Zosia clocked her head to one side and affected a half-smile. "Buy me dinner, though, and we'll see..."

Miranda's mouth opened and closed with no sound coming out. Zosia looked at her for a few seconds, then made to leave. "Oh well, if you're not interested..."

"Wait!" Zosia turned back around to see Miranda on her feet, her arm outstretched as if to stop Zosia from leaving. "Do you like Japanese food?"

"I _love _Japanese food."

"Okay." Miranda nodded nervously. "Okay. So you know that Japanese place in town - on Canton Street?" On Zosia's nod, she continued. "So I'm thinking...you meet me there after work - about nine?"

"Sounds delightful."

Miranda's full lips curled up into a wide smile. "Great! So...um...I will see you there, then."

"Looking forward to it." Zosia turned and began walking out the door. "See you there - and put on your dancing shoes - it's going to be a late one, I'm sure." As the door closed behind her, she allowed herself a smile. This was already working just as well as she'd planned.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>Choosing the right outfit for a first date was a complicated, involved process and one that Zosia put a lot of time and effort into. After all, first impressions were important, and even if the would-be partner had seen you before, they hadn't really <em>seen <em>you yet until the date. They may have seen you at work, as a picture on a web site, or as a passenger on a train, but the first glimpse of someone on a date was different, and if they got a bad impression then, well...the rest of the date was a write-off.

It was late spring, and quite warm, so sweaters and scarves were out - a pity, as Zosia always felt she quite suited them. Long dresses or skirts were also out. She briefly considered going casual, with simple t-shirts and jeans, but that wasn't really her. Plus, going in either extreme - either too casual or too formal - was rarely a good idea in her experience.

After much deliberation, Zosia settled on a dark bottle green sleeveless drop-waist short dress, with ruffled tiers that showed off her legs quite well. It was high-necked, but that was fine - after all, she didn't have much cleavage to show off, if she was being completely honest. Footwear was a simple black pair of heeled sandals - she'd always thought her legs were her best feature, so why not accentuate them?

With her hair down to her shoulders and styled so that it curled slightly towards the ends, and a simple pair of sunglasses to complete the look, she felt she looked pretty damn good, without meaning to seem immodest.

The restaurant itself was located in the centre of Holby itself - Zosia had never been there before, but it had a good reputation. It certainly had a striking aesthetic - parts of it seemed carved out of stone, other parts seemed to be made of brushed metal walls. Small pools of water and various plants were dotted around, adding to the ambience. Open timber work partitions divided up the various parts of the restaurant, including, Zosia noted with approval, a very well stocked sake bar. If this was the sort of place Miranda liked to dine in, then clearly Zosia had made the right choice in picking her.

The radiologist in question didn't seem to have arrived yet, so Zosia got a table, ordered some sake from the bar, and took a seat. She was just setting her purse down when she heard a familiar voice exclaim a 'wow!' She looked up to see Miranda standing in front of the table, looking down at her.

"Sorry I'm late," she said breathlessly, as Zosia stood up to let Miranda kiss her on the cheek in greeting. Miranda held out her hands towards Zosia. "Look at you! You look...I mean, you look great in scrubs, but this is something else."

Zosia blushed slightly. "Thank you. You're looking pretty good yourself," she commented, giving Miranda the once over. She was dressed in folded combat boots, distressed jeans and a simple black cami, with a lightweight bolero jacket over it. The bolero was mostly white, covered with various pieces of black lace and pictures of red roses. She was accessorizing with various bead and metal bracelets on her left arm, and a small gold necklace completed the look. It wasn't Zosia's style, but it suited Miranda down to the ground. She looked great.

Miranda sat down. "I dunno, I feel a little underdressed."

"Relax. You look great." Zosia called over a waiter, and Miranda ordered drinks, menus arrived, and the two women started perusing them. A silence fell - the sort of awkward silence that fell when two people who didn't know each other that well were both trying to think of ways to kick start the conversation.

It was Miranda who broke it, dark brown-green eyes peering at Zosia from beneath her fringe. "So," she asked lightly, "not that I'm complaining or anything, but I do have to wonder - I've been flirting with you for _months_, and I was totally sure you were straight and that this - " She gestured to the restaurant. " - was never going to happen. What changed?"

Zosia took a sip of her sake. "Can't a girl change her mind?" At Miranda's quizzical eyebrow, she gently licked some excess sake from her lips and placed her glass back down. "All right - I felt like trying something new. Things...haven't really been working out for on the relationship front lately, and something had to change. I could really use some extra-curricular activities at the moment that aren't total disasters."

"Oh, so I'm your experiment?" asked Miranda, a look of annoyance on her face. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

"No, no," said Zosia quickly. "That came out wrong - I just...well, you seem smart and funny, and I knew you'd be fun to go to dinner with, so you were the obvious person to...oh god, this is sounding worse, isn't it?"

Miranda grinned. "Relax, Zosh, I'm messing with you - it's just a date. I'm not expecting a proposal or anything at the end of the night. I think my philosophy is pretty much the same as yours - we'll just have some fun tonight, see where it goes - no pressure, yeah?"

Zosia took a breath. "Sure."

"See?" Miranda thanked the approaching waiter for her drink, and took a sip. "You're right - I _am _fun to go to dinner with."

Menus scanned, they both made their orders and watched as the waiter left before turning back to each other. "Speaking of relationships," said Miranda. "And by the way - I'm not much for mincing words."

"Oh, me neither."

"So I hear. Anyway, speaking of relationships, can you put paid to a rumour for me? Is it true that there was a patient on Keller that came in after you tied him to a bed, force-fed him Viagra, told him you were going to ruin him for all other partners, then fucked him to the point of hospitalisation?"

Zosia flushed bright red. "That's not...well, it's a half truth."

"A half truth? Jesus!" Miranda giggled. "Gosh, I made the right choice in coming here tonight!"

"I'd ask how you know that," sighed Zosia, "but I think I already know the answer. Thanks, Uncle Jessie."

"_Not_ the most discreet of people...and kind of a dog, too. He's got _quite_ the reputation among the female staff members."

"Yes, that sounds like him..."

"Anyway, I'm _very _glad that you decided to go the dinner route this time, given your apparent usual methods for picking people up."

Zosia shrugged. "It was that or give in to that guy in the lab who keeps sending me dick pics."

"I wouldn't feel so special - he does that to most people."

"I'm hurt!" Zosia affected a mock-tragic pose. "I thought _I_ was his one and only obsession."

"How that guy still has a job, I don't know."

"His dad's on the board." Zosia shrugged. "Not that I can really talk. Anyway, at the risk of sounding completely self-obsessed, do tell me what else people in the hospital have been saying about me. I'm sure being the daughter of the CEO must inspire lots of juicy, juicy gossip."

"Well, there's several conflicting rumours flying around about you. One is that you're a coddled daddy's girl who uses her relationship to steal all the good operations and goes crying to him when you don't get your way. I, for one, don't think that's the case, because I've seen you two together, and I'm not saying that the atmos is frosty, but my breath mists up whenever you two are around."

"Okay." That wasn't a surprise to Zosia, but it still stung - she hated the idea of using her father to get ahead, and was annoyed that people thought she did it. "So that's one. Any others?"

Miranda smiled. "You're a glutton for punishment."

"So people tell me..."

"There's the one about you, Digby and Copeland being locked together in some weird threesome thing. That's...more believable, actually, but I'm guessing it's not entirely true?"

"Arthur and I...occasionally. But not anymore. Dom and I...no. Arthur and Dom...not yet. It wouldn't surprise me, though."

"How do you live with Copeland, anyway? Guy's _weird."_

"I find him fascinating. He lies with such ease and practise...like no-one else I've ever met. It's like...he doesn't even have to think about his lies. They just come so naturally to him."  
>"Couldn't you find him fascinating from a distance? I feel like he's a serial killer in training."<p>

Zosia cocked her head to one side. "How sweet - are you worried about me?"

Miranda shrugged. "Do you know how _boring_ radiology is? If you get slaughtered, I'm not going to have your visits to look forward to. I'll be catatonic." She took another sip of her drink. "And, of course, the most popular rumour is that you're an ice-cold bitch who strides through the hospital like she owns the place, breaking all manner of hearts in the process."

"What do you think about that one?"

Miranda laughed, and lowered her head. Her eyes flicked upwards to meet Zosia's and she grinned. "Just my type, luckily."

Zosia blushed again, momentarily lost for words. At that point, thankfully, the waiter arrived with their food, sparing her of having to think of something to say. As the waiter busied himself with laying out their dishes, Zosia kept stealing glances over at Miranda, who was clearly doing the same, and they exchanged awkward smiles. Zosia hoped she wasn't still blushing - that was quite unlike her.

After the waiter had gone, Zosia lifted a spicy tuna roll to her lips and said: "So...enough about me. Tell me a little about you."

Miranda shrugged. "Not much to tell, really. Moved here from London about two years ago. Live with a roommate. Radiologist. Single - " She winked. " - but looking. No siblings. That's about it. Sorry - have kind of a boring life."

"I wish I had a boring life," sighed Zosia quietly.

"Yeah..." Miranda stared at her sea bass for a moment, then hesitantly said: "Um...I heard about your Mum. I'm sorry - that must have been really tough for you." At Zosia's silence, she held up her hand. "Sorry - I'm crossing a line..."

Zosia shook her head quickly. "No, no - you're fine. Sorry - it's still hard to talk about. It's..." Lost for words, she looked off into the distance for a moment. "I just..."

Miranda reached over and took Zosia's hand. "It's okay. You don't have to explain. I lost my Dad a couple of years back. I know what it feels like."

_Do you? _ Zosia wanted to snap, but she stopped herself. "How did...?"

"Car accident," said Miranda quietly. I came home one night and I just found Mum at home by herself, and as soon as I came in, I just _knew..."_

Involuntarily, Zosia gave a small sob, and Miranda squeezed her hand. "It's okay," she said softly. "It gets better, it really does."

Zosia squeezed her hand in return. "Thank you," she whispered. After a few moments of that, she withdrew, and wiped her eyes, letting out a deep breath. "Sorry...I don't know..."

"You don't have to explain." Miranda smiled. "Anyway...is it just me or is it getting a bit heavy in here?" She looked at Zosia, her tone light, but expression querying if Zosia wanted to change the subject.

Zosia very much did. "Definitely. So tell me - any other interesting gossip going on around the hospital?"

Miranda leaned forward. "You know Teo - that new pharmacist on AAU?"

"Yes..."

"Fucking Tressler. Or at least, they have at some point."

"Harry Tressler? Nonsense. She'd never go for someone that smarmy."

"Uh-huh? I saw them all over each other in Albie's. This is _first-hand _info."

"Wow." Zosia sat back in her chair. " Colour me surprised. Though he _is_ kind of pretty."

"Not really my type."

"Don't worry - I'd never actually go there."

"I knew you were a woman of taste."

Zosia frowned. "Isn't she married to that new hotshot guy down there? De Luca?"

"_Oh _yes," said Miranda with some relish. "Almost makes me want to transfer down there to see the fireworks when he finds out."

"You're terrible," said Zosia with a grin. "Oh well, he seems like a smug prick anyway - I can't have that much sympathy for him."

"You're a cold woman, March."

"That's why you like me," said Zosia, catching Miranda's eyes again, and giving her a wicked grin.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>The two women continued their dinner, enjoying the fine foods and drink that the restaurant had to offer, punctuating the meal with conversations about work, about their lives outside of work, their likes and dislikes, and the many other things that people fill their interactions with. With each new beat of the conversation, Zosia found more and more things to like about Miranda Cowley - she was razor-sharp in her wit, with a snarky side Zosia found immensely appealing. She was also subtly compassionate, recognising whenever the conversation strayed into areas that Zosia felt uncomfortable with and immediately changing the subject. They had a similar outlook on the world, too. Although she was enjoying the date, Zosia found herself slightly regretting the fact that she hadn't agreed to go out with her before. However, there was plenty of time to rectify <em>that<em> mistake.

And so, after some hours of excellent food even better sake, they found themselves walking through the city centre, not going anywhere in particular - simply enjoying each other's company. It wasn't a warm night, but it was pleasant - there was a refreshingly cool breeze.

Miranda started rummaging through her pockets. "I need a fag," she mumbled, glancing up at Zosia. "You don't mind, do you?"

Zosia shook her head.

Miranda slipped a cigarette between her lips and lit it, inhaling deeply. She looked over to Zosia, smoking drifting from her mouth and nostrils. "You want one?"

"I gave up," said Zosia uncertainly.

"I know that tone," grinned Miranda. "You _really_ want one, don't you?"

Zosia opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She knew that she shouldn't, but it was _so _tempting.

"Go on - it's going to drive you crazy if you don't"

"I...okay." Zosia never had been very good with resisting temptation. She took one from Miranda, and leaned over to let her light it. The first drag was, despite all her medical knowledge to the contrary, heaven.

"No-one ever quits for good, not really." Miranda shrugged. "I mean, you always hear about tons of people that do, but I think most of them are just faking."

Zosia exhaled. "Or it could be that you think that to make yourself feel better about your lack of willpower."

"I'll admit, that seems more likely...but I like _my _theory better." Miranda took a drag. "So...what now?"

Zosia thought for a moment. Normally on a date, she'd have already manhandled her partner back to their place, but this felt different. She'd truly enjoyed the conversation at dinner - a rarity for her dates - and was feeling slightly apprehensive about what would happen next. Was it that she wanted this to be different, or was she simply nervous because it was another woman - something she had no experience with? She thought about what she truly wanted at this stage, and despite her apprehension, she liked the idea of going back to Miranda's. Would Miranda feel the same way? There was only one way of finding out. "How about we head back to yours, grab a bottle of wine..."

Miranda sighed. "Can't - sorry. My roommate has a date of her own tonight - I would have kicked her out, but this was kind of short notice, and I felt bad..."

Was that true, or was Miranda just making up a story because she didn't want Zosia over and wanted to let her down gently? Well, there was always plan B. "Okay...how about mine?"

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Won't Digby & co. be there?"

"No...Arthur will be in bed already, and Dom was going out clubbing. The place is clear, I promise." Zosia took a drag on her cigarette nervously. "I mean, if you want to. I'm not forcing you or anything - if you want to go home or something, that's totally fine with me."

"Relax, Zosh." Miranda placed a hand on her shoulder. "I am _totally_ cool with the idea of going home with you. I just didn't want to, you know, make you feel uncomfortable or anything."

Zosia smiled nervously. "So...now that we've established that we both would quite like to go back to mine, how about we do?"

Miranda gestured vaguely ahead of her. "Lead on."

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>The front door creaked open, despite Zosia's best efforts to remain quiet. A vague memory of Arthur asking her to get some oil for the hinges flashed through her mind, but she'd been pretty hung over at the time, so she hadn't really processed it. Only the hall light was on - the rest of the flat was in darkness. This was good - it meant Digby had indeed retired for the night and Dom wasn't in. Not that she minded any potential awkwardness, but she didn't want to scare Miranda off. "It's clear," she whispered, and let Miranda in, closing the door behind her - with another loud creak as she did so.<p>

Miranda crept into the hall and looked around. "Nice place," she whispered.

"Thank you." Zosia gestured to the kitchen. "Do you want to get some wine?"

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want any wine?"

Zosia looked at her, and grinned. "Not really. You?"

"Which one's your room?"

"Why...?"

"I thought we could go in there." Miranda affected an innocent look. "You know, just so we don't wake up Doctor Digby."

"You're _so _ thoughtful!" Zosia said sarcastically, showing Miranda into her bedroom, and shut the door behind them.

Miranda sat down on the bed, glancing around the room. "I'm going to be nice and assume that it only _looks _like chaos in here. I'm sure you have a fantastic filing system that only makes sense to you."

Zosia leaned back against the closed door. "You're not a neat freak, are you? Because if you are...well, we should probably just call this off right now."

"Don't worry." Miranda sprawled back onto the bed. "I like messes."

"With me, that's almost certainly a prerequisite."

"So..." Miranda hunched herself up on her shoulders. "One thing before anything else happens..."

"Yes?"

"You don't have to do _anything_ you don't want to, okay? At any point, if you feel uncomfortable, just say so, and we'll stop."

Zosia nodded. "I know - thank you."

Miranda's face curled up into a smile and she got up from the bed, walking over to Zosia, who was still leaning back against the door. She reached out her hands, gently stroking Zosia's face. Miranda's skin was smooth and cool - it brought goosebumps to Zosia's arms. She was a few inches shorter than Zosia, so she tilted her head upwards, leaned in, and lightly brushed her lips against Zosia's.

Zosia leaned into the kiss, pressing her lips against Miranda's, parting her own slightly, feeling Miranda doing the same. She felt Miranda's tongue gently slip into her mouth, intertwining with her own. Zosia could taste the smoke and alcohol on Miranda, mixed with an indefinable taste that nonetheless was incredible.

She felt Miranda's hands running through her hair, wrapping round her head, pulling Zosia closer to her, deepening the kiss. Desire burned through Zosia, and she did the same, pulling Miranda to her, trying to sate the desperate need growing between her legs.

The kiss was broken by Miranda, pulling back just a few inches, just enough so Zosia could still feel Miranda's hot breath on her face. "Is this okay?" Miranda whispered breathlessly.

Panting, Zosia nodded, and they fell together again. In between kisses, Zosia kicked off her shoes, and Miranda did the same. Zosia slid Miranda's jacket off her shoulders, and struggled with her top, as Miranda's hands snaked behind Zosia's back, searching for the zip to her dress. The impossibility of trying to do both, while still showering each other with passionate kisses, finally hit them both, and they paused, looked in each other's eyes, and started giggling.

Miranda stepped backwards, flopped down onto the bed, pulled her top off, and started to pull her jeans off, as Zosia let her dress fall to the floor, leaving them both in their underwear.

A moment of silence followed, as the two women each regarded the other's body. Miranda was curvier than her, Zosia noted. Where Zosia's stomach was flat, Miranda's had a slight swell to it. Where Zosia's hips were narrow, Miranda's were fuller, rounder. Where Zosia's breasts were small and pointed, Miranda's were larger, heavier. She was utterly gorgeous.

As Zosia was regarding Miranda's body, she noticed that the other woman was doing the same. For some reason, she suddenly felt a desire to cover herself. It passed quickly, and she did nothing, but the feeling was an unfamiliar one. She wasn't ashamed of her body and wasn't shy in the slightest, so why the reticence now? Maybe it was because she was used to being the aggressor in sex - she was always the one in control, the one on top. But here, now, she didn't feel like that. She was nervous, slightly unsure of what to do - it was a new experience for her. However, as she looked over to Miranda, she knew that it was an experience she desperately wanted.

Perhaps sensing Zosia's uncertainty, Miranda looked in her in the eyes. "Hey," she said softly. "Remember, you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I know." Zosia paused. "I want this," she said in a low, almost yearning voice. "I really want this."

"Me too."

The two women gazed at each other for a moment, then fell together once more, surrendering themselves utterly to pleasure.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

Zosia's hand stretched out in the darkness and connected with cold stone. Confused at the unfamiliar sensation, she looked around and realised with growing dread that she was in the Labyrinth again. This time she was naked, and she tried to cover herself up in a panic, turning her back to the wall and quickly glancing all around her.

There was nothing around her, save for the endless walls, the omnipresent blue phosphoresce, and the terrifying, shifting mass of blackness that the corridors led to. However, she could _hear_ things all around her - the sounds of children crying, the screams of pain, the rattling of chains, and - most prominently - a horrifying roar of what sounded like an unearthly musical instrument. It was not constant, but its hellish bellowing came and went on a regular basis.

She sank to her knees, sliding down the wall, oblivious to the cuts the stone sliced into her bare back. Her naked form huddled down onto the sandy ground, curling up behind her legs, her arms hugging her knees tightly. She rocked back and forth, tears streaming freely down her face, dreading each reoccurrence of that other-worldly horn.

All she wanted to do was close her eyes and wake up again in her bedroom. Why was she here? What was the meaning - if any - behind this? The most frightening thought was that there was _no_ explanation behind this - no reason. That this was simply happening to her at the whim of fate, and there was nothing she could do about it.

As the horn sounded yet another blast, a quick glance around her revealed something else - something new. Through the blue haze she could see a shadow - no, not a shadow - more like a beam of light, but a beam of light that was somehow jet black, in defiance of all reason. It was sweeping down the passageway towards her. She wanted to move, to get out of its way, but she found she could not move - either through terror or some other phenomenon, she was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but wait for the dark beam to pass across her.

When it did so, it was as if her very essence was being torn apart and picked through, as if some malevolent force was searching through the core of her being to uncover her deepest feelings, her darkest secrets, the hidden parts of herself that she had shared with no-one.

And suddenly Zosia knew why she was in the Labyrinth.

"Zosia! Zosia!" The repeated calling of her name shocked Zosia back to consciousness. Disoriented, she tried to get her bearings and realised that she was back in her bedroom, sitting up in bed, her arms tightly clutching her legs close to her body, her face buried between her knees. She was rocking back and forth gently, half-gasping, half sobbing, shaking uncontrollably. Fighting to regain some kind of control, she forced her head to turn towards the voice calling her name. It was Miranda, sitting up in bed next to her, a look of panic on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I..." Zosia tried to catch her breath, tried to unclench her arms from their vice-like grip on her legs, and failed. "Bad dream," she eventually managed to mutter.

"Bad dream? What about?"

"It..." Zosia paused. The revelation that had come to her in the Labyrinth was gone now. "I don't know," she said softly.

"Jesus, you're dripping with sweat." Miranda reached out to touch Zosia's shoulder in comfort, but Zosia instinctively flinched, causing Miranda to draw her hand back in surprise. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I...just..." The effort of trying to speak exhausted Zosia, and she simply broke down into incoherent sobs.

Miranda stared at her for several seconds, as if trying to gauge what the correct response might be. Finally, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around Zosia. "Is this okay?" she whispered. "Is this what you want?"

Zosia nodded quickly. The feel of Miranda's cool skin against her own felt wonderful, as did the soft kisses Miranda kept planting against the top of Zosia's head, and the whispered reassurances that everything was okay. After some time, she felt her limbs begin to unclench themselves, and was able to lie back down in the bed. Miranda pressed her body to Zosia's, embracing her from behind, kissing her shoulder, and taking Zosia's proffered hand in her own, squeezing it comfortingly.

Finally, the sobs stopped, the gasping relented, and Zosia was able to relax, secure in Miranda's arms, until sleep took her again.

For the first time in weeks, the dreams did not trouble her.

* * *

><p>Arthur stumbled blearily out of his bedroom, wiping his glasses on his pyjamas before setting them crookedly on his face. He made an immediate beeline to the kitchen-slash-living room, clearly hoping to get some much-needed early morning coffee. However, when he arrived, he saw an unfamiliar face at the kitchen table, causing him to stop in confusion.<p>

"Morning, Digby," said the unfamiliar woman chirpily.

Digby adjusted his glasses and stared at her for a few moments, trying to get his bearings. Finally, he said: "I know you, don't I? You're in radiology."

"Miranda Cowley," she said. "That's right."

"We're...ah...not in radiology right now," he said slowly. "So it's a bit...weird to see you here." He looked around the room worriedly. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"I don't think so," said Miranda thoughtfully. "Of course, if I _was_ a figment of your imagination, I would say that."

"Yeessss..." said Arthur uncertainly.

Zosia popped her head around the corner of the kitchen area. "Stop teasing him. Come in, Arthur. You're _not_ dreaming, and there's fresh coffee."

"Oh good." Arthur sat down. "So..."

"Morning!" A chipper voice interrupted him. It was Dominic, who immediately sat himself down at the table, looked at Miranda, looked at Zosia, and made an affected "Hmmmmm" noise.

"Good morning, Doctor Copeland," said Miranda sweetly. "Murdered anyone today yet?"

"Not yet. Getting sort of tempted now, though." Dominic looked over at Zosia. "So...anything exciting to tell us? We don't normally have visitors for breakfast."

"Nothing to tell, really," said Zosia, busying herself at the cooker. "Miranda and I - you don't mind if I tell, do you?" Miranda gave a 'go ahead' gesture. "We were on a date last night. It went really well, and here we are."

"A date?" Arthur processed this and a large grin immediately spread across his face, which he quickly suppressed, leading to an eye roll from Dominic. "Okay. Well...good for you." He looked up and what Zosia was doing and frowned. "Wait, you can cook? I didn't even know you knew how to turn that on."

"I'm _full_ of surprises," said Zosia airily.

"You certainly are," muttered Arthur.

Zosia finished her cooking, and spooned an elaborate omelette onto Miranda's plate, which Miranda thanked her for. Dominic pouted. "You've never made _me_ an omelette."

"_You've_ never spent an amazing night with me," shot back Zosia.

"Thank you," said Miranda.

"Thank _you,_" said Zosia, and leaned over to give her a quick kiss.

"Well, you and I _have _spent the night and together, and..." Arthur tailed off. "I..ah...I feel I may have...um...said a bit too much there."

"It's okay," said Miranda soothingly. "Zosia told me all about your history."

"She did?" Arthur looked over at Zosia in a panic. "You _did?_"

"Not all of it," said Zosia defensively. "Just...you know...the gist of it."

"What didn't you tell me?" asked Miranda.

"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" said Arthur quickly, laughing nervously.

"_Awkward,_" said Dominic gleefully. "I have to say, this is one of my personal favourite breakfasts ever, now. Anyone want some more coffee?"

There did not appear to be a great demand for more coffee.

* * *

><p>It was a pleasant, warm morning, and Zosia savoured every minute of it as she and Miranda walked through the hospital grounds. "Sorry about breakfast," she said wryly as they passed the peace garden.<p>

"It's fine." Miranda waved her hand dismissively. "Digby's a lot of fun to tease."

"That he is." Zosia paused. "Um," she said nervously. "Also, thanks for last night."

"Well, I aim to please..."

"Not just that..."

"I know." Miranda looked at Zosia, a look of concern on her face. "You okay? You were pretty out of it last night."

"I haven't been sleeping well lately. Just...bad dreams."

"Do you remember what they're about?"

"No," Zosia lied. She might not remember specifics, but she remembered plenty of small details. It was not a subject she wanted to talk about.

"Okay...you ever think of talking to someone about it? It could help..."

"I'll think about it."

"Good." Miranda clearly sensed this was not a subject Zosia wanted to discuss, so she dropped it. "Can I ask you something else? Feel free to say no..."

"Go ahead."

"Last night...when I went to comfort you...it was like you didn't want to be touched. And after we...you know...you just rolled over and went to sleep - no cuddling. I thought it might be me, but..."

"It's _not_ you," said Zosia quickly. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. It's just..." She paused, considering how best to put it.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, no...I want to tell you. It's...look, most of my sexual encounters have been pretty...dispassionate." At Miranda's look, she quickly added: "Last night aside, of course."

"Naturally."

"I like to keep things casual, so I don't usually like to cuddle or...you know, anything too intimate." Zosia paused and laughed nervously. "Is this making me sound like a massive bitch? I feel like it is."

They were almost at the entrance now. Miranda stopped, turned to Zosia, and took her hands. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think you're a _massive _bitch."

Zosia grinned. "Thank you. But last night...when you held me, and when I fell asleep in your arms...that's not something I normally do."

"Okay." Miranda nodded. "I _think _I get it."

"What can I say?" Zosia shrugged awkwardly. "I'm a fuck-up. And last night...I'm glad you held me. I'm glad I fell asleep in your arms. It felt..._right._"

"Yeah." Miranda met Zosia's glance for an instant, grinned nervously, then glanced down. "Um...it felt right for me too."

"I want to see you again." Zosia hadn't meant to blurt it out that bluntly, but she meant it. "I mean, if you want to. Go out again, I mean. Or stay in. I don't mind."

A large, joyous smile spread across Miranda's face. "Yes!" she said happily. "I mean, yes - I'd love to see you again."

"Great!" Zosia and Miranda looked at each other for a moment, then fell into a kiss. As they separated, Zosia noticed her father over her shoulder, talking to Arthur at the doorway and suddenly looking at them very intently. She smiled at Miranda. "So...this is where I go in."

"Okay." Miranda leaned forward and kissed her lightly again. "Call me, okay?"

"Count on it." Zosia watched Miranda leave with a smile, then walked towards the entrance and her father. Arthur was clearly asking him something, but Guy's attention was solely on Zosia.

Without looking away from Zosia, Guy spoke to Arthur: "If you're looking for some research, Dr. Digby, look up the notes of Dr. Philip Channard. Finest neurosurgeon I ever worked with."

"Channard. Got it." Arthur followed Guy's eyeline, and saw Zosia. "Oh! Morning. Again."

"Arthur. Dad." Zosia swept by them both, not stopping. Her father was not to be dissuaded, however, and he followed her, with Digby scurrying to catch up. Zosia called the lift, and to her relief, the doors opened instantly. However, her father was too fast, and he made it in as well before the doors closed.

Digby also made it to the lift, but Guy held a hand up before he could come in. "You should probably get the next one, Digby."

"Next one. Right." The doors closed on him, and the lift began its ascent. Zosia kept her eyes perfectly level and stayed silent, but Guy cut through that silence right away.

"So...your latest romantic partner is a bit of a departure, isn't it?" said Guy lightly. "I must say, I didn't see that one coming."

Zosia sighed irritably. "Since you'll just interrogate everyone until you find out what you want to know, I'll tell you. Her name is Dr. Cowley, she works in radiology, we went out last night, and I'm planning to go out with her again."

"Well, whatever works for you, I suppose."

"One more thing." Zosia glared at her father. "If you and Uncle Jessie could manage _not_ to intimidate or threaten this one, it would be really nice."

Guy smirked. "Would we do that?"

"You _have _done that. Many, many times. Even for people I wasn't with anymore!" She shook her head. "Poor Arthur. I saw him in the canteen that day - he looked like someone had threatened to kill his dog."

"Banter, darling, harmless banter," said Guy silkily.

Zosia kept glaring. "I mean it - I can handle my own relationships - _please_ stay out of this one."

"Okay, okay." Guy smiled at her. "Whatever makes you happy, that's my motto."

_Don't I know it,_ thought Zosia ruefully as the lift doors opened. She gave her father a terse smile and stepped out onto the ward.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks were unusual for Zosia. She had meant what she'd said - she really did want to see Miranda again, and so they went out again, and then again, and then they just began spending time together after work without needing to go out on specific dates, and pretty soon they were spending a good amount of their free time together. Eventually, Zosia realised to her surprise that they were, in fact, an actual <em>couple - <em>a concept that was quite foreign to her. Almost all of her relationships had been strictly casual, and usually strictly sexual. But with Miranda, it was different. Of course, the sex was amazing, there was no denying that, but it was so much more. She enjoyed just _being _with her, spending time in the same room with her, not even having to talk - just enjoying her company. Lying in her arms at the end of a long day was simply heaven.

If she had to be honest, the intimacy still frightened Zosia a little. She was so used to keeping her lovers at a distance, of never letting them really know her, that to be in a relationship that was growing more serious by the day was a little intimidating. She hadn't told Miranda of her fears - Zosia didn't want to scare her away with more of her foibles - this was something Zosia just had to work through. On the whole, though, Zosia felt that her life was going incredibly well again. The dreams had ceased - her nights were peaceful now, held in the soft, reassuring arms of Miranda.

Emboldened by how well her life was going, and full of confidence, Zosia finally felt ready to face her mother's diary. It had been sitting at the bottom of a drawer in her room, buried under some clothes ever since she had gone to the family home. Today, however, she was ready to finally unearth it.

She took it to the hospital with her, and when her break rolled around, she made her excuses to Dominic and Arthur, and headed outside to start. Finding a handy bench, she sat down, lit a cigarette (sadly, spending so much time with Miranda meant that any attempt to re-quit smoking was doomed to failure), and began reading.

Her mother's words were instantly recognisable - Anya had always had such a gift for language, whether in Polish or English. Zosia had tried, after she had died, to write down some of her wisdom, but it never sounded like her mother - it always sounded like Zosia.

The diary began several months back, and to start with, was fairly unremarkable stuff. It was when Zosia was away at school, getting ready for her final exams, and her mother seemed very concerned about whether she'd been preparing enough for them - concerned that perhaps Zosia's occasional hedonism would get in the way. Zosia smiled ruefully - her mother had known her too well - although she didn't seem to suspect _half_ of what she'd gotten up to at school. Perhaps that was for the best, though.

Zosia smiled as she read through her mother's thoughts on her choice of career, how proud she was of Zosia's accomplishments, and how great of a doctor she thought Zosia would be. Tears sprang to her eyes as she read that, memories of her mother's encouragement, and how her belief in Zosia had helped her so _much_ over the years, flashing into her head. That was what she missed the most, thought Zosia - how Anya could make Zosia believe she could do _anything_, how Anya could defuse any problem with a few well-chosen words, and above all, how _connected_ she made Zosia feel. She always knew how to make Zosia feel like she was part of something much greater than herself, that she was not alone, that she would _never_ be alone.

Tears were streaming down her face now, and she set the diary down to wipe them away. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, lit another cigarette, and was ready to pick the diary back up when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Thought you'd given up?" It was Colette, walking across the grass to the bench.

"Oh, please," said Zosia defensively. "This is my first relapse. I've known you for, what, fifteen years? How many relapses have you had? Well into double figures, I think."

"Point taken," said Colette, sitting down opposite her, eyeing the packet and lighter.

"Anyway," said Zosia, ignoring the obvious hint, "you're on the e-cigs, right? They're _just _as good, aren't they? Bet you don't miss the real thing at all."

Colette scowled. "Are you going to give me one, or am I going to have to kill you and take them by force?"

Zosia gestured to the packet, and Colette lit up. Exhaling a plume of smoke appreciatively, she gestured over to the diary. "What's that?"

"Just some light reading," said Zosia evasively. When Colette reached for it, she quickly snatched it away, causing Colette to jerk back in shock.

"Seems light, all right! What's up with you?"

"Sorry." Zosia sighed. "Okay...it's Mama's diary. Her...last diary."

"Oh." Colette paused awkwardly. "Sorry. Um...found anything interesting? Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."

"Well, I found a bit that wishes I'd stop smoking...so I sort of feel bad now." Zosia smiled crookedly and took a drag of her cigarette. "Colette...please don't tell my father that I have this."

"Why?" Colette's face fell. "Zosh, did you steal this?"

"No! Well...sort of. I just...went to the house when he wasn't there, and took it." Zosia winced as she heard itself.

"When you take something and don't tell anyone, they call that stealing, you know."

"Colette, _please,_" pleaded Zosia. "I know this puts you in a rough position, but I _need_ this. I just...there was just so much I missed, and this will fill in the gaps...probably..."

Colette sighed. "Okay. Guy will kill me when he finds out, you know that?" She shook her head. "You always did have a way of bending people to your will, didn't you? Like father, like daughter."

Zosia gave a small smile. "Thank you," she said softly, always feeling awkward whenever she had to be totally sincere with someone. Colette ground out her cigarette, rubbed Zosia's shoulder supportively, and left her to her reading.

* * *

><p>The diary practically dominated Zosia's leisure time from then on. Her mother had always been a diligent diarist, very rarely missing a day. All of her thoughts, her activities were recorded for Zosia to go through - a fact for which she was immensely grateful. Having these entries made her feel like she almost had her mother back again - she could practically hear her mother's voice dictating the entries as she read.<p>

Having this at her fingertips meant she hadn't felt the need to trouble her father again about the subject, for which she (and probably him) was very glad. He obviously did not want to talk about the subject, and Zosia wasn't in the mood for another shouting match.

Unfortunately, the detail of the diary entries was a downside when it hit a certain point - the point at which her mother learned that the cancer had returned. When Zosia hit that point, she was in the staff room on Keller, on her break, and a growing knot of tension was in the pit of her stomach as she read about her mother documenting the symptoms, knowing full well what the diagnosis would be. Her mother had known as well, judging from the tone of the entries, but had seemed reluctant to put it down in black and white until she was sure - perhaps hoping that all the signs were wrong, but knowing that they were not.

Zosia closed the diary before she reached the diagnosis - she was already feeling the back of her throat constricting, and she knew that if she read that part she would be in tears. That was something she wanted to avoid at work - or at least, something she didn't care to repeat at work.

As she placed the diary back in her bag, the staff room door opened, and Arthur poked his head through. "Ah! There you are. Come on - break time's over."

Zosia took a deep breath, made sure she was composed, and got up to join him. "All ready for you - what have we got?"

"Okay." Arthur lead her out onto the main ward. "In bed six, we've got a gentleman - no name, think he's homeless, suffered a nasty fall." He handed her the notes. "All yours."

"You always know how to show a girl a good time," said Zosia with a smirk. She glanced at the notes as she walked over to the bed. "So...have we got a name, mister..?" She lowered the notes and took a look at the patient. He certainly seemed homeless - he was unshaven and unkempt, long hair coming out from below his woollen hat. His face was filthy and appeared to be covered with scratches and scrapes of uncertain origin. His clothes were torn and ragged, and there was a ungodly stench coming from him - almost like rotting flesh. Zosia involuntarily gagged as she approached, but tried to stay professional.

"No name?" she asked again, to no reply. "Okay then - let's take a look at your leg - I hear you went over on it pretty badly..." Still no answer. Zosia moved to examine the leg, but before she could do so, she noticed the man's eyes. They were blue - a piercing, intense, almost unearthly blue - and staring straight at her. It was extremely unnerving, especially coupled with the continued silence.

No matter where Zosia moved, the man's gaze remained rock-solid on her. "I'm just going to move this bit of clothing here," she said nervously, trying to dispel the feeling of dread she was having. The stare was causing her stomach to churn now, and she didn't know why - maybe because its intensity was bordering on the frightening now?

As she moved the man's coat to look at the leg, a swarm of insects suddenly rushed out from beneath the coat, swarming over the man, the bed, and her hand. Reflexively, she screamed and jumped backwards, shaking her hand to throw the bugs off. The man stood from the bed and walked towards her, his piercing gaze never leaving her, insects falling and crawling from the man's clothes.

Zosia stumbled backwards, losing her balance and falling to the ground. She cried out in pain, and scrambled backwards, trying desperately to escape the ever-approaching man.

She heard her name called from the other side of the ward, and looked over to see Arthur rushing towards her. "What's wrong?" he asked in a worried tone. "Why did you fall over?"

"Get him away from me!" she hissed, gesturing to the man. However, as she did so, she noticed that he had gone, as had his army of insects. Mouth agape, she climbed to her feet, ignoring Arthur's questions. "He's gone," she said cautiously.

"Who's gone?" demanded Arthur. "Zosia, what's going on? You're falling over, and...and screaming, and all the patients are _staring _at us."

Zosia turned to Arthur. "That patient - the homeless man - he was staring at me, and there were swarms of insects, and..."

"I don't see any insects...wait, was he threatening you?"

"Yes! Well, sort of...it was intimidating, and weird...and..."

"Okay. Um...I'll get security, and...right." Arthur ran off, leaving Zosia standing in the middle of the ward. She rubbed her forehead, trying to get her breath back. She glanced around quickly, making sure she couldn't see any trace of the man, but he was nowhere to be found. However, Arthur was right - the patients _were _all staring at her. Feeling incredibly self-conscious, she quickly made for the staff room to try to pull herself together.

* * *

><p>"So they didn't find him?" asked Miranda with a frown. "He just...vanished?"<p>

Zosia nodded, and downed her shot. "Security searched all over - they couldn't find him. And...he had a busted leg, apparently - I mean, that's what Arthur said. He couldn't have gotten far. And...and...the insects! What was that all about? They were just..swarming all over him!" She gestured to the bartender for another drink. She'd arranged to meet Miranda at Albie's after the shift, even before the incident with the homeless man, and was doubly glad of that now.

"Poor baby," said Miranda softly, kissing her on the top of the head. "What did you do with the insects? Bet the cleaning staff _loved_ cleaning that up."

"They...they just disappeared," said Zosia quietly.

"What, like scurried under the beds?"

"No, I mean _disappeared._ As in, without a trace."

Miranda frowned. "That doesn't seem possible."

"Believe me, I know. I spent most of the rest of the afternoon convincing Arthur and Mr. Levy I wasn't crazy."

"Is it possible," said Miranda tentatively, "that maybe you were scared, and thought you saw more insects than there actually were?"

"I'm _not_ making this up!" snapped Zosia, as the bartender arrived with another round of shots. She grabbed one and instantly downed it.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," said Miranda, taking one of Zosia's hands gently. "I'm not suggesting that. But you know, sometimes when we're stressed, and things are getting to us...we sometimes see things that aren't there."

Zosia looked over at Miranda and smiled gratefully. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. Do you think I'm stressed?"

"You're _always_ stressed," said Miranda with a grin. "But lately...yeah, I think you are. I think you're obsessing too much over that diary. I know that you want to understand everything that happened with your mum, but...sometimes I'm worried that it's occupying too much of your time."

"I always make time for you, don't I?" Zosia leaned over and kissed Miranda softly on the lips.

"For which I'm _very_ grateful for." Miranda stroked Zosia's face gently. "But...and I don't mean to tell you what to do...maybe you could take a break from it for a while."

"I need to know," whispered Zosia pleadingly. "I need to know what I missed, and I can't talk to my father about it...and no-one else knows. I even missed the funeral."

"I know, I know," said Miranda softly. "Maybe it's time to take a new approach, then?"

"I don't understand."

"The funeral. If you can't talk to your dad about it, and no-one else is telling you much - then try the funeral directors. I'm sure they have records about it - you know, the order of service, that sort of thing - they might even have recorded it. I don't really know how these things work."

Zosia thought about it - that actually seemed like a very good idea. Colette hadn't been able to tell her much about the service, and her father wasn't really up for talking, so this might be her best approach. The funeral was - apart from the chance to say goodbye - the thing she regretted missing the most, so a chance to relive it in a way was too good to pass up. She smiled at Miranda. "You know, you're not just a pretty face."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." Miranda gazed at Zosia for a moment. "You know...you have a beautiful smile - has anyone ever told you that?"

Zosia frowned. "Not that I can recall."

"Not the smug smirk you usually have..."

"Hey..."

"...but when you genuinely, honestly smile...it just lights your face up."

Zosia didn't know what to say to that. "Maybe it's because...I just don't smile like that very often."

"You should."

"If you keep treating me the way you have been...then I think I might be smiling like that a _lot_ more in the future." Zosia leaned over again and the two women's lips met again. They remained that way, in each other's arms, oblivious to everyone else in the bar.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

When it came to Zosia's next day off, she decided to take Miranda's advice and go down to the funeral directors. Miranda had offered to go with her, but Zosia had declined - if she broke down, which she suspected she might, she didn't want Miranda seeing her like that. Of course, Zosia knew that in proper relationships, people weren't supposed to mind their partners seeing them at their weakest, but she was still getting used to the whole 'relationship' part. It was best not to do anything to jinx it.

At least, that was the justification Zosia used to herself. It didn't sound very convincing, even to her.

It hadn't been hard to track down the funeral directors who had helped with her mother's funeral - they were a small firm, a family business, that seemed to be mainly run by one person. That seemed odd, and it was something of a mystery to Zosia why her father had used them - they certainly didn't have a wonderful reputation, at least according to the National Association of Funeral Directors. Maybe her mother had a personal connection to them, or had specifically requested them? Hopefully, these were the sort of questions the funeral director could answer for her.

Zosia reached the funeral parlour, removed her sunglasses, and took a look around. The outside of the building certainly wasn't very well maintained - the windows were dirty, the paint on the door was peeling, and the sign above the door seemed on the verge of falling on top of someone. Gingerly, she opened the door, causing the sign to creak alarmingly, and stepped inside. The reception was every bit the equal of the outside in terms of appearance - dirty floors, dusty counters, magazines that were years old - certainly not the place Zosia had expected her parents to use.

The front desk was unoccupied, so Zosia looked around to see if she could spot anyone. No luck - there wasn't even a bell to ring. "Hello?" she called out. "Is anyone there?"

There was a crash from one of the back rooms, and Zosia couldn't help but roll her eyes. However, she was mindful of the fact that her bedside manner (and manner in general) had been criticised for being somewhat cold, and since she was on a mission here, she was going to try her utmost to be sweet and pleasant.

A dishevelled figure, not much older than Zosia herself, shambled out of the back office. He looked surprised to see her there, and ran a hand through his lank blonde hair. He was clad in a suit that had seen better days. Zosia could not imagine a less inspiring or reassuring figure to help people following the death of a loved one. "How...er...can I help you?" he asked.

Zosia gave what she imagined to be her sweetest smile. "I was hoping you could, actually, Mr..?"

"Oh, just call me Ed," he said with a wave of his hand. "Everyone does."

"All right, Mr...Ed..." At this, Ed sniggered. Zosia frowned. "What?"

"Mr. Ed," he said. "You know, like the horse?"

"Like _what _horse?"

"On the telly. It talked."

"Horses can't talk."

"No, no, it wasn't real..."

Zosia held her hand up, her desire to be sweet quickly forgotten. "Stop right there. I don't have any idea why you're talking about imaginary horses, but I'd like some information."

Ed gestured to a ratty selection of leaflets. "Oh, right...there's some info there...on the leaflets."

"No, it's about a funeral that already happened," said Zosia, her frustration growing by the moment. "It was the funeral of Anya March."

At the mention of the name, Ed's face instantly dropped. "What?" he said in a hollow voice.

"Anya March," said Zosia again, louder this time. "I know you must do _lots_ of funerals here, but I'm sure you can remember this one."

"Why do you say that?" whispered Ed.

"It was only a year ago..." Zosia peered at Ed. "What's wrong? You've gone white as a sheet."

"Nothing's wrong," said Ed quickly. "I did what I was asked to on that one. It went all according to plan. That's what he said - all according to plan."

"All _who_ said? My father?"

"She was your mum, then?" said Ed nervously. He was fidgeting with his hands now. "Why weren't you there?"

"That's _none_ of your business," snapped Zosia.

"It had to be done quick, that's what he said."

"I don't care what _he_ said." Zosia rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Why are you being so weird about this? All I want is some information about the service. Like...an order of service...a video if you have one."

"No, no videos. He insisted." Ed leaned in closer to her. "You don't know anything about it, then?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I did, would I?"

Ed stared at her, his jaw moving slightly as if he wanted to say something, but instead he just disappeared into the back office, leaving a baffled, angry Zosia in the reception area by herself. After a few minutes, he reappeared, clutching a folder in his hand. He stuck his hand out to Zosia wordlessly, and she took the folder - it was an order of service for the funeral.

Overcome by the sight, Zosia could feel herself tearing up. As she tried to keep a lid on her emotions, she heard Ed order her out. She looked up. "What?"

"That's what you wanted, right? So leave. I've got work to do."

"Is this all you have?" she pleaded.

"Everything." he said firmly. "I'm busy. If you've got what you came for, get out."

Zosia wanted to protest, to ask him just what his problem was, and to ask him if this really was the best way to run a funeral parlour, but the sight of the order of service had taken the wind out of her sails, and all she could do was nod silently, and leave.

As she stood on the pavement outside, she faintly heard the door lock behind her, but she didn't care. She put her sunglasses on to hide her red, teary eyes and made for home.

* * *

><p>A perusal of the order of service yielded little in the way of new information for Zosia. The service had been short - almost perfunctory, even. It was as if the bare minimum required had been done, and nothing else. Maybe that was how her mother had wanted it? Maybe her father had been unable to bring himself to do any more? Had he already descended into an alcoholic stupor at that point? Zosia didn't know. it was frustrating - she'd thought this would answer questions, but instead it had raised more. No wonder Colette hadn't been able to tell her much about the funeral - there was precious little to tell.<p>

As she was looking through it, a glass of wine in her hand, Arthur came out of his room and wandered into the kitchen. He was dressed up in a smart suit, and actually looked quite dapper.

"Looking good, Dr. Digby," she said lightly.

Arthur turned round in surprise. "What? Oh...thank you."

"Meeting Mollusc Girl tonight, then?"

"Maria? Yeah..."

"You're dressed up - going anywhere nice? Fancy restaurant? The theatre?"

"A lecture at the museum..." said Arthur, sitting down next to her.

"That was going to be my next guess, actually."

Arthur smiled. "It's...ah...quite interesting actually. It's about..."

Zosia held up her hand. "It's okay, Arthur. I fear it would be lost on me."

"Yeah..." Arthur pondered it. "Maybe."

"So things are going well with Maria, then?"

"Oh! Oh, yes. Don't like to jinx it, but...sparks are, as they say, definitely flying."

"Good." Zosia smiled. "I am glad, Arthur. She seems really nice."

"And Dr. Cowley? Is that going...you know...okay?"

Zosia smiled, almost to herself. "Yes. It's going very well."

"You know...when you two...well...it was a _bit _of a surprise. But...I think she's nice, and...well...good for you."

"How do you mean?"

"You just seem so much more..._happy..._these days." Arthur shrugged. "I'm just assuming it's to do with her."

"Well, it _is_, thank you," said Zosia.

"Is she coming over later..?"

"She is, but don't worry - we'll be out of your way. I _know_ how excited aquatic info gets you two."

"Thank you." Arthur shook his head. "I just have to make sure because after last time - when Dominic got confused about which bedroom he was supposed to go into, and didn't hear us come home...well, no-one is very keen to repeat that."

"You never know," smirked Zosia. "I bet Maria's into all _kinds_ of kinky shit that you don't know about."

"Ha ha - I know _everything's_ Maria's into, thank you very much," said Arthur indignantly. "And if you'll excuse me..."

He made to leave, and Zosia called out after him. "Have a nice time," she said warmly. "I mean it."

Arthur smiled at her. "Thank you," he said, and left.

* * *

><p>Miranda stroked Zosia's hair lightly. "How did it go at the funeral director's?" she asked softly.<p>

Zosia leaned back into Miranda's embrace. They were lying on the sofa, watching a film, Zosia in Miranda's arms. "Fine," she lied, glad that Miranda couldn't see her face. "I got an order of service...it was helpful."

"Good." Miranda kissed her lightly on the top of the head. "I'm glad. You know, I don't want to speak out of turn here..."

"Never stopped you before."

"Shut up," said Miranda jovially. "But seriously - maybe it's time to take a break from all this. I know you miss your Mum, and I understand that...but sometimes it's like an...obsession with you. Now that you have _some_ closure, at least, maybe you could hold off on it for a while?"

Zosia didn't say anything, so Miranda continued: "It's just a suggestion, Zosh. Sometimes I get worried about you, you know?"

"I know," said Zosia softly. "I'll...I'll try, okay?"

"Okay." Miranda paused for a moment. "You know...on a complete tangent...have I ever told you I love your name?"

Zosia frowned in confusion, and angled her head up to look at the other woman. "What?"

"Your name. It's really pretty. Zosia...Zosia...Zaaww-shaahh." Miranda grinned. "I just love saying it."

"You're weird."

"Look who's talking."

"I think Miranda's a nice name too."

Miranda shrugged. "It's boring."

"No," said Zosia, turning herself over and cupping Miranda's face in her hand. "It's beautiful, just like you."

"_So_ cheesy..." said Miranda, before Zosia's lips met her own, silencing her. Zosia kissed her deeply, rolling Miranda over and positioning herself on top of her.

When they broke apart, Zosia smiled wickedly. "How invested are you in this film?"

"To be honest, I don't even know what it's about," admitted Miranda. "Why do you...ooh!" She gasped as Zosia's hand slipped under her shirt. "Oh, I see..."

"Not yet, but you will..." Zosia leaned down and kissed Miranda again.

The movie was soon abandoned in favour of other activities.

* * *

><p>Zosia stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep for the first time in weeks. Miranda's naked body was draped around her, and normally the feel of the other woman's skin next to her was enough to help her relax into unconsciousness. Not tonight, however.<p>

Their lovemaking had moved from the living room into the bedroom after Maria and Arthur had returned home from their lecture early. Zosia had heard them fumbling at the door and she and Miranda had rushed, naked and giggling, into the bedroom before the other couple could enter.

She looked over at Miranda guiltily. Spending time with the other woman was a joy like she'd never known with any of her other partners. For the first time she felt like she'd found someone she could actually foresee being in a long term relationship with - a thought that scared and delighted her in equal measure. Why then did Zosia find it so difficult to be completely honest with her? Why couldn't she tell her about the weird events at the funeral home?

It was probably because Miranda was right, and Zosia knew it - she _had_ been obsessing over her mother's death too much. For her own mental health, she needed to take a break, but could not bring herself to do it.

Even now, she thought, glancing over to her mother's diary on the bedside table, she wanted nothing more than to start going through it again. She looked down at Miranda again, guilt washing over her, but still reached out for the diary. _Just one entry_, she thought, _just one - then I'll put it down again._

The thought of reading through her mother's diagnosis made her insides churn, however, and she instinctively flicked through to the last page, suddenly gripped by a desire to see what the last entry was.

When she reached it, though, the last entry was not what Zosia had expected at all.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Zosia kissed Miranda goodbye at the hospital entrance as normal. Miranda looked at her and frowned. "You okay, Zosh?"<p>

"Yeah!" said Zosia, a little quicker and forcefully than normal.

Miranda shrugged. "I don't know...you just seem...a little weird this morning."

"Thought you liked weird," said Zosia, trying to keep her tone light.

"I'm serious, Zosia." Miranda reached out and stroked Zosia's face softly. "You just seem a little off this morning, that's all. It's like you're totally different from last night. Has something changed?"

Zosia shook her head. "No...no...don't worry...just feeling a little sick, that's all. Probably something I ate."

"Oh." Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Do we need to get you to a hospital?" she asked, totally deadpan.

Zosia smiled and kissed her again. "I'm fine, really. I'll see you later."

Miranda said her goodbyes and walked away, leaving Zosia standing at the entrance. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she had to do. Her head told her that she should wait until after her shift, but her heart was pressuring her to do it now.

Sadly, Zosia's heart always won out in situations like this.

Zosia approached the doors to the CEO's office nervously, her mind still screaming at her to leave it, to tackle this another time, but she didn't listen. A question had been raised inside of her, and she would not rest until it had been answered. However, she could not shake off the dread that she wouldn't like the answer.

She made to open the door, then paused, bitter memories reminding her that she should probably knock first. She did so, and her father called out for her to enter. As she did so, he looked up from his desk in surprise, Colette doing the same. "Zoshie?" he said, clearly confused. "What are you doing here?"

Zosia stepped inside. "Colette?" she asked quietly. "Could you give my father and I a few minutes alone?"

"Do I need to alert security?" asked Colette lightly, but then she caught a glimpse of Zosia's face, and nodded quickly. "Of course. I'll be...around if you need me."

As Colette left, closing the door behind her, Guy gestured to a seat in front of his desk. "Have a seat. Now look, I've only got a few minutes - there's a board meeting, and..."

"It'll only take a few minutes," mumbled Zosia, sitting down. She fumbled in her bag, and produced the diary. "Um." She wasn't sure how to start. "I...I took this from the house..."

"Is that Anya's diary?" Guy's face hardened. "Did you break into the house and steal that?"

"I had a key," said Zosia defensively. "It wasn't breaking in..."

"You had no right," snapped Guy.

"I know." Zosia stared down at the diary. "I didn't want to bother you with it, but I knew I needed _something_ to understand why Mama did what she did, and I thought this would help, and..."

"Did you take anything else?"

"No," Zosia said instinctively. Best not to make her father any more angry than he already was. "I'm sorry - I know I shouldn't have..."

"No, you shouldn't. That was your mother's private journal."

"I needed to know why she did it." Zosia opened the journal to the last page. "Look at this last entry!" she said, gesturing to the page. "'This time I don't think I'm going to beat this. I need to tell Zosia.' Why would she write this if she wasn't going to tell me? This is the last entry, the last thing she ever recorded about her life...why would she say that and then not do it?"

"Give me that." Guy reached out and took the diary from Zosia, who wiped her eyes - tears had begun to flow unbidden from them.

"I'm sorry, she whispered. "I know this must be hard for you too..."

"You have no idea," muttered Guy.

"Why would she write that? And why is that the last entry? It's a few weeks before she...she...why aren't there more entries?"

Guy sat back in his chair, sighed heavily, and ran his fingers through his hair. "Zosia..." he said levelly. "I know you have so many questions...but are you sure you want the answers?"

"I _need_ them," pleaded Zosia. "Why wouldn't I want them?"

Guy nodded. "All right. If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"Look...your mother was a headstrong woman - no-one could get her to do something she didn't want to do. I tried to get her to tell you, I did, but she thought you couldn't handle it."

"I could have handled it!"

"But you would have left medical school, and she couldn't have that."

"I know all of this..." said Zosia impatiently.

Guy sighed. "And you know she refused treatment."

"Because there was no chance of recovery."

"Oh, there was a chance, all right."

"What?" Zosia's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean? She said right in the diary that she didn't think she'd beat it this time..."

"No, she meant she'd _decided_ not to beat it this time." Guy stared at Zosia, clearly trying hard to keep his voice level.

"She was going to tell me..."

"She decided not to, _and_ decided to stop treatment, after she realised what it would do to your studies. You would have come home and had to repeat a year."

"Of course I would! She was my mother!" Something was twisting inside of Zosia now, making her nauseous. Her head was cloudy - she couldn't think straight.

"For you, for your career, she decided to..._sacrifice_ herself." Guy practically spat out the words, his gaze not leaving Zosia.

"What are you saying?" muttered Zosia, shaking her head. "This doesn't make sense...are you saying Mama could have gotten well, but she decided to let herself die so I wouldn't fail my year?"

"Like I said," Guy said levelly, "she was a headstrong woman."

"It was my fault," whispered Zosia. She looked up at her father, tears blurring her vision. "I never meant...I would have never asked her..."

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" Guy looked down at his desk. "You said you wanted the answers."

"You must blame me..." asked Zosia weakly. "Do you blame me?"

"I..." Guy couldn't meet her gaze. "I...try not to. You didn't know."

"The drinking...the ignoring me...was it because of...because of this?" Zosia's head was spinning now, tears streaming down her cheeks, her guts twisted up inside herself. She wanted nothing more than to vomit.

Guy still refused to meet her gaze. "It was only a small chance, after all...maybe she thought it wasn't worth taking..."

"Oh god...it was..." Zosia put her head in her hands. "I spent all this time blaming you, and...and...it was me, and..." She looked up at her father, her eyes wild with grief. "I'm sorry! I never would have...I didn't want..."

Guy looked away again. "It was the cancer, darling, not you. That's...what I tell myself."

"Daddy, I'm sorry," said Zosia desperately. She reached out to take Guy's hands, but he instinctively pulled them away. "Daddy..?"

"You wanted to know, Zosia. I warned you, but you wouldn't listen. Did the answers bring you happiness?" All Zosia could do in reply was sob into her hands. Guy looked at her, and his tone softened. "Darling...maybe now we can move past this? I'm willing to forg..." He paused and his jaw hardened. "I'm willing to _forget_ this and move on."

"How do you expect me to forget this?" wailed Zosia. "I killed my mother!"

Guy was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he looked away again. "No, the...the cancer did that."

Zosia abruptly got up, the force sending her chair clattering backwards. "I've got to...I need to...I've got to get out of here..."

Guy stood up and held his arms out placatingly. "Look, darling...even before this you've been a little...shall we say unstable? Maybe you need some help...some _professional _help?"

"I don't think anyone can help me now," said Zosia in despair.

"I'm worried about you...I think you could be a danger..."

"Like I was to Mama?" snapped Zosia.

"Just let me call someone..." said Guy softly. "We can help you, Zoshie."

At the sound of her mother's favourite name for her, something in Zosia simply snapped. Shaking her head in confusion, she turned and walked from the office in a daze, her father's cries ringing in her head, but not fully understood. She walked past Colette, who was making her way back to the office and who stopped in shock when she saw Zosia. She asked what was wrong, what had happened, but Zosia simply ignored her and walked past.

On Keller, Arthur spotted her and frowned. "You're _really_ late," he said peevishly. "Get changed - we're swamped today, and..." He realised she wasn't stopping and called after her. "Zosia? Are you okay?"

Zosia didn't answer. She barely heard the call. All she knew was that she had to leave - had to get out of this hospital right now.

She walked past Sacha Levy at the other end of the ward, and he gestured at his watch. "You are seriously late, Dr. March - I trust you have a good explanation?"

Again, Zosia simply walked past, not acknowledging him in any way.

He called after her: "Dr. March? Zosia?"

Lost in her thoughts, Zosia ignored both him and Arthur's calls, walking straight to the lift and making her way down to the ground floor. Mechanically, she walked the familiar route back to her flat, almost on autopilot. More than once, she stepped out into traffic, and cars screeched to a halt mere feet from her, angry, confused drivers shouting abuse at her. She didn't respond. She didn't even slow down. Dimly, she was aware that she could be seriously hurt or even killed, but in her present state of mind, she didn't care.

Once back at the flat, she made her way straight to the kitchen, and gathered together every bottle of alcohol she could find. Then she brought them to her bedroom, set them down, and locked the door.

Then Zosia screamed.

All the grief, all the anger, all the emotions that had built up in her since the conversation in her father's office came spilling out as she howled in rage and pain to the heavens. Suddenly everything she had thought she knew was wrong. It wasn't really her father she needed to blame, it was herself. _She_ had killed her mother. _She_ was the reason that her life was destroyed. Not her father, not anyone else - just her. Self-loathing and guilt flowed through her and, seeking some - _any - _form of outlet, she did what she apparently did best and began destroying things.

Everything in the room that could possibly be broken - picture frames, ornaments, bits of furniture - was hurled or smashed against the wall, or against other items, in an orgy of violence. Zosia screamed as she blazed a swathe of destruction through the room - sparing the booze, of course - trying to let out her guilt, her rage at herself, knowing she would never be able to.

Zosia had killed her own mother, and nothing would be okay ever again.

Once she had destroyed all that could possibly be destroyed, she sank down onto her mattress, now sitting on the floor in a pile of clothes and broken furniture. She sobbed, but had no more tears left to cry. There was only one thing she could do, so she reached for a bottle of vodka, popped the top off, and began trying to drink herself into oblivion.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

There was no way of telling how much time had passed between the start of her rampage, and the knock on the door. Her clock and phone were both smashed to pieces, lying on the floor in amidst the rest of the wreckage of her life. All Zosia knew was that it was now dark outside, there was an annoyingly persistent knock on the door, and that she hadn't drunk _nearly _enough yet.

She tried to ignore the knock, but it wouldn't stop. "Zosia?" called a voice on the other side of the door. "It's Arthur."

"And Dominic," added a second voice. "Zosh, are you in there?"

"Of _course_ she's in there," said Arthur peevishly. "What, do you think she locked herself in, then climbed out of the window?"

"_Not _helping, Diggers."

Arthur sighed. "Look...we're just...ah...worried about you. You just walked out of work today without saying a word..."

"Levy would _not_ stop bitching about it," added Dominic.

"And now...well, all of the alcohol in the flat - which was quite a bit - has gone. And while I'd like to think you decided to live a bit healthier and thrown it out..."

"Judgemental much?" muttered Dominic.

Arthur ignored him and continued: "I think you might have it...well, in there with you. Coupled with the fact that as soon as we got home the neighbours were complaining about someone screaming and apparently smashing the place up..." He sighed again. "Look, I don't think that - in your current state - getting drunk will help matters. Although...it's probably already a little late for that. Basically, Zosia, we're both worried about you - aren't we, Dominic?"

"Well, of _course_. That's goes without saying."

"And...well...we'd like you to open this door and just...um...reassure us that you're okay."

Zosia stared dully at the featureless wall opposite her. A small part of her insisted that she should, at least, tell her flatmates that she was all right. Even though she really wasn't. "I'm fine," she said flatly, her mouth dry and scratchy. She took another swig of wine - the vodka having run out by now - to try to alleviate her thirst.

"What?" said Arthur.

"I said I'm fine," she said, a little louder this time.

"Zosh?" It was Dominic. "We're sure you are, but...it would really be helpful if you'd open this door. We're your friends, and we just want to help you."

"No-one can help me," she whispered. "Just...leave me alone."

There were more requests and protests from beyond her door, but Zosia didn't care to hear them at this time. She'd said all she wanted to say at this point, and there was more drinking to do. She didn't feel nearly numb enough yet.

Eventually both Dominic and Arthur ceased their pleading at Zosia's door. She tried to sleep, but couldn't. Staring at the ceiling only made her think of her mother, and made her break down, sobbing into her mattress. No matter how much she drank, she couldn't numb herself to the point where sleep would take her. So she sat on the mattress, and drank, and watched the night turn to day, and back again.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>As night rolled around again, there was another knock on the door. "Go away," she called, thinking it to be Arthur or Dominic.<p>

"Zosia?" It was Miranda.

"Miranda..." said Zosia softly.

"Arthur and Dominic called me...they said you haven't come out of there in almost two days. I've been trying to call you myself, but it goes straight to voicemail."

"I'm fine."

"You're _clearly_ not." Miranda's voice softened. "Zosia, what's wrong? Let me in, please. I can help you."

"I'm bad for you. I'll hurt you."

"Why do you say that?"

Zosia gave a hollow laugh. "I hurt everyone."

"That's not true, and you know it."

"I destroy everything I touch. I'm poison."  
>"What happened, Zosh?" pleaded Miranda. She sounded on the verge of tears. "Yesterday you were fine...happy, even. Tell me what happened, and let me help you."<p>

"Just go, please," begged Zosia. "Please. I'm begging you. I just...I just need time, okay?"

Miranda gave a deep sigh. "I don't want to leave you..."

"It's what I need...please go. I promise I'll call you soon." That was a lie, but anything to get Miranda to leave. It was for her own good. Zosia cared for her too much to let her get hurt - something that was bound to happen if she stayed with Zosia.

There was the sound of Miranda getting to her feet. "I'm going," she said hesitantly. "But only because you say it's what you need, and I'm choosing to believe you. But..._please_ call me as soon as you can. I'm really worried about you."

"I will," lied Zosia, and as she heard Miranda's footsteps disappear down the hall she told herself that it was for Miranda's own good - that Zosia was doing her a favour.

It didn't make it hurt any less, though.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>Finally, some time after Miranda had left, the combination of alcohol and sheer exhaustion finally drove Zosia to sleep. She had been staring at the wall, regularly swigging from a bottle of...something - the exact nature of what she was drinking didn't bother her as long as it was alcoholic - and sheer fatigue weighed down on her eyelids. She didn't want to close her eyes - every time she did she saw her mother, but now she had no choice. Her eyes closed, her senses faded, and she fell into unconsciousness.<p>

No sooner had she done that, Zosia realised she was in a familiar place - the Labyrinth. Somewhere she hadn't been for weeks now. As she walked down the cold corridor, she finally realised why she was here. Why she was always drawn to this place when she left the real world behind.

Her mother was here, and she was calling to Zosia.

Of course she was calling to Zosia - after all, Zosia was the reason she was here, wasn't it? As the enormity of the revelation hit her, Zosia sank to her knees. "I'm sorry!" she yelled. "I never meant for this to happen! If you'd have...have just..._talked_ to me..."

Zosia knew her excuses were meaningless, though. They were _obviously_ meaningless. All the excuses, all the apologies, they couldn't change the cold, hard truth - that her mother was dead, and Zosia was responsible. Sobbing, she gasped out apology after apology into the darkness, crying to her mother that she was sorry, that she loved her. But there was no answer. A freezing wind blew down the passageway, and Zosia screamed, the pain and guilt overwhelming her.

Her eyes snapped open, and she was awake again, still in the wreckage of her room. She dared not close her eyes again, and by this point there was no alcohol left. Desperate to find something - _anything_ - to stave off sleep, she staggered to her feet and unlocked the door to her room. Mercifully, the flat seemed empty - Arthur and Dominic must have both gone to bed.

She made her way through the flat as quickly and quietly as possible, trying not to alert anyone. As she shut the front door behind her, the cold night air hit her, shaking her out of her dazed state slightly. She walked through the Holby streets as fast as she could, her head still swimming from the events of the last two days.

That thought made her mentally take a step back - it _had_ only been less than two days since her conversation with her father. It made her give a hollow laugh - how a life could change completely in such a short amount of time! Her current actions weren't likely to get it back on track any time soon, but she could not bring herself to care. There was simply too much flying around in her head, and she desperately needed some way of distracting herself.

Zosia reached her destination quickly enough, and before she did anything else, she found herself questioning the wisdom of this decision. Desperation and exhaustion forced her hand, however, and she banged heavily on the door in front of her. After a few minutes of repeated banging, the door opened, and an angry-looking Miranda Cowley, clad only in a vest and shorts, stood before her.

When she saw who it was, Miranda's expression shifted to one of worry and disbelief. "Zosia?" she asked in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Fuck me," pleaded Zosia.

"What?"

"Fuck me," repeated Zosia. "Just...take me inside, and fuck me, because I...I can't think straight any more, and booze just isn't working, and I need to just...lose myself." She stepped forward and took Miranda's hands in her own. "I want to lose myself in _you_, do you understand? I...I want to fuck you...and you to fuck me...and not think of anything else but you..."

Miranda squeezed her hands supportively. "I understand," she whispered softly, "but that's not what you need right now, I don't think."

"_Please..._"

"Come in." Miranda led Zosia inside, and shut the door behind them. "God, you stink. When was the last time you showered, or washed...or ate anything?"

"I don't remember."

Miranda leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up first, okay?"

Too tired to do anything but agree, Zosia nodded. Miranda smiled, led her into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. She pulled Zosia's clothes off and got her into the shower. Then, she stripped off her own clothes, and got in as well. Totally drained now, Zosia stood in the hot water, letting it wash over her, as Miranda cleaned her up, washed her tangled hair, and washed the funk of the past two days off her.

Once showered, dried, and dressed in fresh clothes, Zosia was placed on the sofa in the living room. Miranda lit a cigarette and handed it to her. "Here. To calm your nerves. I'm getting you a drink." Before Zosia could say anything, she added: "Coffee, that is. I think the last thing you need is more alcohol."

Zosia didn't argue - depressingly, Miranda was probably right.

The coffee was hot, bitter, and actually did her clear her head slightly. Miranda sat down next to her as she drank, and placed a supportive hand on Zosia's leg. "What's wrong, Zosh?"

"I killed my mother," mumbled Zosia.

"What?"

Zosia turned to face Miranda, tears in her eyes. "I killed my mother. She refused treatment because of me...she _died_ because of me."

"Oh Zosh..." said Miranda sadly. "You know that's not true...you loved your Mum, I know you did. Whatever her reasons for withholding treatment were...they aren't your fault."

"Doesn't matter how much I loved her...doesn't matter what anyone says...I _know_ it's my fault." Zosia shook her head. "All this time...I wanted someone to blame...and I should have been looking at myself."

Miranda laid her head on Zosia's shoulder. "What brought this on? Something must have triggered this..."

"I was talking to my Dad...he told me the whole story." Zosia laughed mirthlessly. "God, I've been such a bitch to him, and all the time...it wasn't his fault...it was mine!"

"Did he tell you that?" Miranda sighed. "Shit. I was afraid this would happen."

"Eventually - I had to drag it out of him, but..." Zosia paused and frowned. "Wait, what did you say?"

Miranda looked up at her, confused. "Just that I was afraid of this. Why?"

Zosia abruptly stood up, causing her head to swim some more. She rubbed it angrily, trying to make sense of the confused, fragmented thoughts running through her head. "You asked if he told me that - like you already knew he would."

Miranda also stood up, shaking her head. "What? No...I was just putting two and two together. You said you'd spoken to him, and..."

"And you said that you were afraid that this would happen." Zosia jabbed her finger at Miranda. "Like you knew more than you were letting on."

"Zosh, you're not making _any _sense...I meant that I was afraid that all this digging around wouldn't make you any happier, and it looks like I was right, doesn't it?"

Ideas and suspicions were flying around Zosia's head now, and she felt unable to articulate or examine any of them to any real degree. But she knew that she was onto something here, even if she didn't know what it was.

Then it hit her.

"Oh God," she said angrily. "I've been _so_ stupid. Of _course_ he's behind this, isn't he?"

"Who?" said Miranda nervously. "Zosh, you're starting to worry me here."

"My father! He put you up to this, didn't he?"

"Up to _what_?"

"This!" Zosia made an expansive gesture. "All of this! I should have known, really. Every time you tried to persuade me to leave things alone, to not investigate Mama's death, that was him, wasn't it?"

"No! It was because I was worried about you!" Miranda paused for a moment in thought. "Wait, do you actually think that I was told by your Dad to go out with you?"

"It's the sort of thing he'd do!" yelled Zosia, the force of her voice causing Miranda to take a step back.

"You think that our relationship, everything we've shared, my...feelings for you - you think that's all fake? That I was doing all of it because I was _told_ to?" asked Miranda, her voice cracking as she talked.

"Just admit it!" screamed Zosia. "Why won't people just...just...leave me alone? My father tries to run my life...my mother kills herself because she thinks she knows what's best for me...why can't I just..." She took the coffee cup she was holding, and threw it against the wall as hard as she could, her voice degenerating into a formless scream of rage.

"Zosia!" yelled Miranda in a terrified voice, and Zosia looked over to see the other woman practically cowering at the other side of the room. "You are scaring the _shit_ out of me! Calm down, _please!_"

Zosia looked down at her hands, and realised what she'd been doing and saying. How could she have even thought that Miranda had been fake? That didn't even make sense. She'd just been ranting about nothing but nonsense, getting herself angrier and angrier, and now Miranda was terrified. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucked up."

Miranda seemed to calm down at Zosia's change of mood. "I know," she said quietly. "And I want to help you...but...but...I can't be with you right now. You're _scaring_ me, and I can't...I just can't deal with that."

"Please don't send me away," begged Zosia. "I need you." As she said it, she realised how true that statement really was. She _did_ need Miranda in her life - how could she have ever thought what they had wasn't real? She didn't know how she was going to work through her issues, but she knew she needed Miranda to do it.

"I have to," said Miranda tearfully. "Just for now. Just...until I get my head together. You _really_ scared me, Zosh. I'll get you a taxi...I'll make sure you get home safely. I just need..._time._"

To a rational mind, that would have sounded perfectly reasonable. To Zosia, in her current state, it sounded like a rejection - a rejection in the spirit of her mother's rejection of Zosia's input into her treatment, and as such, familiar bile spread through Zosia. She could almost feel it - the familiar heat of anger that would cause her to lash out, to say something hurtful, to pre-emptively push someone away, before they could push her away.

However, knowing that it was coming could not prevent Zosia from stopping it. "You know what?" she said archly. "Don't trouble yourself. I'll make my own way home. I wouldn't want you to put yourself out."

"What?" Miranda stared at Zosia. "What are you talking about? It's no trouble..."

Zosia held up a hand. "Really, I'm fine. You want me to leave, I get that. I'll get out of your hair. You don't have to worry about me anymore."

"Why are you being like this?" Tears were running down Miranda's face now. "What is _wrong_ with you, Zosia?"

Zosia walked to the door and opened it. "I'll be fine - just go about your business - don't even give me a second thought, okay?" She practically spat the last word out.

Miranda shook her head. "If that's how you want this to be, _fine_. Leave - I won't stop you. But remember, I _wanted_ to help you, and you threw it in my face. Remember that."

Zosia began to walk through the door. As she did so, she heard Miranda behind her. "You know what the hardest part of this is, Zosia? I liked you. I _really_ liked you."

This caused Zosia to pause for an instant, but she didn't reply. She just left, closed the door behind her and began walking back to her flat.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>Dawn was breaking now. The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, casting its light onto Zosia. She was standing on the balcony of the flat, leaning on the railing and staring off into nothing. She sighed, and lit another cigarette, the latest in a long line. She couldn't even remember how many she'd had at this point - not that she cared.<p>

The sound of the door sliding open came from behind her, but she didn't turn around. "Very bad for you, you know," said Arthur's unmistakable voice.

She couldn't stop herself from snapping. "Yes, I _am_ a doctor, Arthur, thank you."

"Never mind then," muttered Arthur, and began to close the door.

"Don't go!" called Zosia desperately. "Please don't go."

Arthur sighed. "I thought you'd want to know - Doctor Cowley called. She wanted to know if you'd gotten home safely, given that you were apparently roaming the streets last night. I told her you had."

"Did she want to speak to me?" asked Zosia, despite already knowing the answer.

"Ah. No. She expressly did _not_ want to speak to you," said Arthur. "And I can't say I blame her."

Zosia sighed. "She told you what happened then?"

"Most of it."

"What's _wrong_ with me, Arthur?" asked Zosia plaintively.

"Is that a...a rhetorical question?" asked Arthur tentatively.

"Why do I go off into paranoid rants at the drop of a hat? Why do I push people away all the time? Why am I so..so _angry_ at everything?" Zosia sighed. "Did I push Miranda away because I thought I was bad for her, or just because I'm a fucking bitch? Why, every time it looks like I might be happy, do I destroy it?"

"At the risk of armchair psychology...I think you have serious, _serious_ issues you need help with."

Zosia smiled wryly. "Then why do I explode and drive away anyone who tries?"

Arthur paused. "I don't know," he said finally.

"Me neither." Zosia flicked her cigarette away, and turned to face him. "I wish I knew."

"Look," said Arthur, "I don't know everything that's going on with you, but I know enough, and we - that is, everyone - want to help you, we really do."

"You can't help with the truth, Arthur," said Zosia softly. "I killed my mother, and no matter how much I try to blame others, or seek help, nothing will ever change that fact."

"But you...you can move past it," urged Arthur. "If that's even true, and...and I don't see how it even _could_ be. Look at you...you're so smart, and you're a brilliant doctor, or at least you could be. You're dedicated, passionate...you can be so generous sometimes. You really care. You're..." He shook his head. "You're _beautiful_, in _so_ many ways, and if you sort yourself out, you could have the whole world in your hands. But if you don't, and you continue on the course you're on..."

"Yes?"

"I think you'll be dead before you're thirty," he said bluntly.

Zosia nodded, almost to herself, and laughed softly.

"It's not funny," said Arthur crossly. "I'm worried about you! I...I want to help you, Zosia, but I don't know how."

"I wish I knew," whispered Zosia. She suddenly looked up at Arthur. "How's Maria?" she asked.

Caught off by the sudden change in subject, Arthur blinked in surprise. "What?"

"How's Maria?"

"She's...she's good. We're good. But what does that have..."

"I'm glad," said Zosia warmly. "You deserve happiness, Arthur. You really do."

"I don't know what to say to that..." Arthur scratched his head. "Thank you?" He paused for a second, as if wondering whether to say something. "You know...it's funny..." He gave a fake sounding chuckle. "Once...I...ah...I thought I might find it - happiness, that is - with _you_."

Zosia smiled sadly. "Oh, Arthur Digby - you're a romantic at heart. What you want is a perfect relationship, with someone who loves you, and who you love - just like that, with no hidden agendas or complications. A relationship where you can grow old together, supporting each other through thick and thin."

"I suppose so..."

"And does that sound like me?" Zosia shrugged. "We both know it doesn't, Arthur. That's not the life I'm probably ever going to live. Sometimes I wish it could be, but..." She sighed and walked over to Arthur, who instinctively took a step backwards. She smiled. "Relax, I'm not going to pounce on you."

"Well, you do have a habit of doing that..."

Zosia wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder, "for always being there for me - even when I didn't deserve it. Which, let's face it, is most of the time."

Arthur hugged her back, a little awkwardly. "I don't know about that...it hasn't been _that_ bad living with you."

"You're just being nice. I'm a nightmare." Zosia pulled back from Arthur, who frowned at her.

"Zosia, you're not going...I mean, you're not thinking of doing anything...stupid, are you?"

Zosia gave a sad smile, and walked back into the flat. "Why change the habit of a lifetime?" she called behind her, sliding the door closed.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>It was barely an hour before the sight of her bedroom wall drove Zosia to distraction. The dawn light was creeping in through the blinds, even though they were closed, making sleep difficult even if Zosia had been inclined to try to drift off. The room was still a disaster, but she had no inclination to tidy it up. Instead, she sat on her mattress, and tried to find some other way of relaxing, of calming her frazzled nerves. There was no alcohol left, her TV was lying in pieces, and she had no desire to try to read anything. Vaguely, she was aware that at some point she needed to get back into the world and sort what was left of her life out, but for now that was still far in the future.<p>

And so, when the blank wall facing her couldn't be endured any more, she found herself looking around the ruin of her room, and her eyes alighted on the Box - the one she had lifted from her mother's study. Somehow it had survived her swathe of destruction, and it was sitting on top of a broken chair, glistening in the shards of sunlight.

It was a puzzle box - that's what Arthur had said, wasn't it? Perhaps the challenge of solving it could occupy her mind for a few hours or more, depending on how tricky it was to open. She picked it up and sat back on her mattress, studying the Box in great detail. Apart from the fine gold etchings around the sides, there seemed to be no joins in the Box - no clues in how to open it. A cursory exploration of the sides revealed no obvious pressure points to trigger anything.

Zosia frowned. What was it Arthur had said? That some boxes required hundreds, even more than a thousand movements to open? Surely this small device couldn't be that complicated? She tried to think back to her research on the Box, but from what she could recall, none of the sites about the Box had actually mentioned any clues on how to solve it.

All other matters temporarily forgotten about, Zosia peered intently at the Box. She _would_ solve it - now she had a purpose, and she would not be distracted from that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

Time had long ceased to have any meaning for Zosia by the time she found her first clue - a hidden pressure point that enabled her to twist the Box down the middle. How long had she taken to find that, she idly wondered? It was dark outside now - that was her only clue. She could have checked the time, but the thought of stopping her puzzle solving was not an appealing one - especially now that she'd finally made some progress.

The movement must have triggered something within the Box, as now a tune was coming from it - a simple music box melody. Zosia smiled at her musical reward, and kept working.

Once the first step had been made, the others started to fall into place with growing regularity. A hidden button caused the Box to be twisted into a new shape - a turn of one of the etchings caused it to shift again. Zosia knew she was close to solving it now - she could almost _feel_ it. Now, her movements were flowing together one after the other, the sequence becoming clearer and clearer to her, the end point coming ever closer and closer.

At some point - Zosia wasn't actually sure when - the sound of a huge bell tolling became apparent to her. The sound even made her look up from the Box for an instant - something she hadn't done for many hours now. There were no churches nearby, and even if there were, it was pitch black outside. No church would sound its bell in the middle of the night, surely?

Even that, however, was not enough to distract her for long, and she returned to her puzzle solving. Somehow she knew there were only a few steps remaining, and she smiled to herself as she worked through them, knowing that her task would soon be complete and that the Box would have been defeated.

In addition to the tolling bell, the light in her room was starting to flicker now, but Zosia scarcely noticed as she slid the final etching into place, and the top of the Box flicked open. She grinned as she mentally congratulated herself, but her delight was short-lived as the Box suddenly pulsed with light. She gasped, and instinctively dropped it, fearing that perhaps the inside of the Box was electrical in nature and able to shock her.

As the Box hit the floor, she peered at it cautiously. Blue light was pulsing around the Box, in the black spaces between the etchings. _They were just lacquered surfaces_, thought Zosia. _How could they light up like that?_

While she was trying to figure it out, the Box started moving by itself, its pieces rearranging themselves into a new shape. Her bedroom light flickered again. Zosia glanced around her in confusion, and caught sight of a glass of water beside her mattress. The water in the glass was gradually turning red, to the colour of blood. The tolling of the bell seemed to get louder and louder. Her bedroom light flickered again, then went out.

The room was not dark, however. The Box was still pulsing, and in addition to that, blue light was shining in through the blinds, and - impossibly - through the corners of the room, where the walls met each other. At every space where walls met, the blue light shone though the joins.

A cold wind started to blow from somewhere, and Zosia could not take it any more. "What's going on?" she screamed. "What's happening?" But there was no answer, just the tolling of the bell, ever louder and louder.

Just when it seemed that the bell could get no louder, that it had reached its peak, the wind reached a fever pitch of intensity, and the wall that Zosia faced simply blew away. As she gazed in shock, the bricks, the paint, the supports, all flew backwards away from her into a vast, shifting darkness that stretched as far as she could see. Leading towards that darkness, beyond the confines of her room was a familiar sight.

It was the passageways of the Labyrinth. They stretched out beyond the confines of her room, exactly the same as they had appeared in her dream, the same cold blue phosphorescence lighting their walls.

"No," Zosia whispered, clambering back against the wall of her bedroom. "No, this can't be happening."

The passageway wasn't empty. As Zosia watched, three figures strode into her room - she hesitated to call them people, as they were nothing like anyone she'd ever seen before. All three were clad in black leather robes that both covered and seemed to be stitched _into_ their bodies.

The first was obese, the black leather stretched tight over his bulk. A slit in the front of his robe exposed a large vertical gash that was held open by hooks attached to the garment. His head was bald, with rivulets of fat collecting at his neck. He wore a pair of sunglasses that he slowly removed, exposing empty sockets sewed tightly shut with thick black thread.

The second was female, as far as Zosia could tell. She too was bald, and her neck housed a deep wound, allowing full vision into her throat. An elaborate arrangement of metal wires around her head and neck kept the wound open, every turn of her head pulling the flesh one way or the other, exposing the raw redness beneath.

The third offered no clue to its gender at all, so elaborate was its scarification. Its head was scarred beyond any trace of humanity. It seemed to have no eyes or ears. Tight metal wires wrapped around its head, holding open its most distinctive feature - its mouth, although somehow that term no longer seemed applicable. Instead, a large hole rested where the mouth once did, the wires hooked into the raw flesh around the edges, holding it open. In the middle of that bloody mess, a set of teeth remained, chattering - constantly, almost eagerly.

The three figures stopped once they had fully entered the bedroom. Zosia glanced over to the door, wondering if perhaps she could try to make a run for it, or call for help. Her body did not want to obey her, though. She was transfixed by fear, paralysed against the wall.

A final figure strode into the room - their leader, perhaps? The other figures certainly seemed to defer to him, standing back slightly as he strode towards Zosia, stopping just a few feet from her. This one was male - clad in similar black robes to the others, with several exposed panels in the front, showing flaps of flesh held open with hooks, sections stitched through the clothes, and other such body modifications. He was also bald, and his head was completely covered by thick scars in an elaborate grid. At every intersection of vertical and horizontal axes, a thick nail had been hammered through down to the bone. There were dozens of such nails hammered into his skull. His skin, like his three companions was an unearthly pallor, as if it had been dusted down with ash. A scent of vanilla filled the room, but it did little to disguise the smell of rotting flesh that followed the intruders.

The leader spoke, with a booming voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once, and fill the room. "**The Box. You opened it. We came.**"

"What?" gasped Zosia. "I don't...I don't understand."

"**Lemarchand's Box. You solved its puzzles, and now you will come with us.**"

"It's just a puzzle box! I didn't..."

"_Oh no._" This was the female, her voice a harsh whisper coming from both her mouth and the gaping wound in her neck. "_It is an invocation. A means to break the surface of the real, and summon us, the Cenobites._"

"Cenobites?"

"**Artisans of the twin disciplines of pain and pleasure,**" said the Lead Cenobite. "**Seekers of the most extreme forms of experience, explorers in the farthest realms of desire.**"

"I didn't mean to," pleaded Zosia. "I just...I just wanted to solve the Box."

"_And now you've solved it,_" rasped the Female Cenobite. "_And now we will give you what you truly desired._"

"I didn't desire this! If I'd known what the Box was..."

"**No time for protests,**" said the Lead Cenobite. **"Now you will come with us. Now you will taste our pleasures."**

Zosia could not bring herself to move, so terrified was she. This had to be a dream, a bad dream - like the ones she had been having for the past few weeks. Creatures like this couldn't exist in the real world, could they? "Oh God," she whimpered.

"**Save your prayers, child. Believe me - no-one who cares is listening.**"

How had the Box ended up in her parent's house? Surely her mother would not have bought such an item if she'd known what it was? Zosia's mind was racing, trying to process all that was happening. "Please," she begged. "Please, I don't want this. My mother must have bought the Box by accident - I just found it in her room..."

"_Your mother?"_ asked the Female. "_Oh yes - we remember her." _She cocked her head to one side and spoke: "Hello, Zoshie. How have you been?"

Zosia's eyes widened in shock. It was her mother's voice - a perfect facsimile. "How did you..."

"**Your mother opened the Box. She tasted our pleasures," **said the Lead Cenobite. "**I only hope your suffering will be as sweet as hers."**

"My mother..." Zosia gestured towards the passageway. "Is...is she _there_? I want to see her!"

The Lead Cenobite smiled joylessly. "**Impossible, child. She is in her own hell, as you will soon be in yours. She is quite unreachable."**

"I want to see her!" yelled Zosia, finding the strength to take a step forward. As soon as she did, a sharp pain shot through her right hand, accompanied by the sound of chains rattling. She looked over to see a chain, stretching out from the darkness, a hook on the end, speared through the skin of her hand. She moaned in pain, instinctively reaching over to unhook her hand. Before she could do so, another chain shot out, impaling her other hand. Then the chains retracted, slamming her against the back wall, arms pulled taut.

She screamed in pain as the chains pulled against her flesh, the pain almost too much to bear.

The Female Cenobite walked over to her, a hooked tool in her hand. "_Such spirit, Zosia," _she whispered. "_Your mother had it too." _She reached the hook up to score Zosia's face, drawing it down her cheek just hard enough to draw blood. At the same time, she reached her other hand up to caress Zosia's other cheek, her ashen skin impossibly soft. "_This is just a taste of what you will soon experience," _she said softly.

Zosia sobbed , indistinct pleas spilling from her mouth as she tried to process all of this. Her mother wouldn't have wanted this. Had she opened the Box by accident too? Did her father know about this? Had her mother been taken one day, and her father had scrambled to deal with it? Or...

Slowly, the answer started to come to her. Her mother wouldn't have bought such an item, not if she'd known what it was. Something the Lead Cenobite had said about pleasures came back to her, and her thoughts turned to her father - someone who lived for various pleasures of one sort or another. She knew he wasn't faithful - she'd known that for a long time. Maybe he was also a seeker of _other _types of pleasure. Had his search led him here, to this Box? Then why hadn't _he_ been taken?

All of those questions and more - why had the funeral director acted so weird? Why had her father explicitly blamed Zosia for her mother's death? All of those questions combined in Zosia's head, and suddenly, with blinding clarity, she _knew._ Or at least, she had a theory. A flimsy one, but with it, there was a chance.

"Please wait," she yelled, though the pain.

"**Wait? For what?" **asked the Lead Cenobite. "**For you to beg some more? There is an eternity of begging ahead for you, and we have stayed for too long already."**

The Chattering Cenobite and the Large Cenobite both began to walk towards her, the Chatterer's teeth snapping faster in anticipation, the Large Cenobite pulling various saws and tools from his belt. In desperation, Zosia yelled: "You were tricked!" at the top of her voice.

"_Oh Zosia,"_ whispered the Female Cenobite, her face barely inches from Zosia's. "_Such a fierce spirit to break."_

The Lead Cenobite, however, frowned. "**Wait."** he said firmly.

"_Wait?" _asked the Female in confusion.

"**Wait," **commanded the Leader. The Female, the Chatterer and the Large Cenobite duly stepped back from Zosia, leaving her hanging on the chains. "**Explain yourself."**

"My father," gasped Zosia. "He tricked you."

"_Is _this_ a trick, Zosia?" _asked the Female with a smile._ "Are you teasing us?"_

**"No one tricks us!" **said the Leader angrily. "**This is a ploy, to stall us."**

"No...no, I swear. My mother must have told you that she didn't open the Box..." There was no reply from the Cenobites. "It's because she didn't...my father did...I think, at least. He must have tricked you...made you think she did...so you'd take her, not him."

**"Do you know this, or is this merely guesses?" **queried the Leader. "**We have little patience for games."**

"I know my mother!" spat out Zosia. "I know what she'd do, and what she wouldn't. I _know_ this."

_"And if this _is_ true, what then?" _inquired the Female._ "Maybe we like the toys we already have."_

The Leader paused for a few moments, his scarred face unreadable. "**We will not be toyed with,"** he said finally. "**If we have been tricked, we must have our revenge." **

The chains pulled away from Zosia, tearing the backs of her hands open. She fell to the ground, whimpering in pain.

"**Go to your father. Make him confess himself," **continued the Leader. "**Then we **_**may**_** spare you."**

"What about my mother?" asked Zosia through gasps of pain.

"_The Box was opened twice,"_ rasped the Female. "_We require two souls."_

"So, even if I do this...you're not going to free my mother?" demanded Zosia. "You have to!"

"**You are not in the position to demand anything, child. Your freedom is all you may gain from this arrangement."**

Zosia staggered to her feet. "Wait...you said you needed two souls? Okay...if I do this...you'll take my father...and let my mother go..." She closed her eyes, tears running freely down her face. "And instead of her, take...take me. Let her go, and I'll go with you - willingly. You can do whatever you like to me then."

The Leader smiled. "**Such spirit!** **Knowing your flesh will be such sweet, sweet reward. Very well. Deliver us the trickster, and we will honour this bargain."**

"Okay," whispered Zosia. "I'll do it." She sank to her knees again, exhausted almost beyond the limits of human endurance. She took a deep breath, and exhaled, her breath coming out in huge, racking sobs as she realised the enormity of what she had agreed to.

When she opened her eyes again, the Cenobites were gone, and the far wall was back in solid form again. There was no trace of them remaining, no chains, nothing. The only evidence that they had ever been there was the Box, and the gashes on her hands and face.

She ran from her room into the hall, then to Arthur's room. Without knocking, she stormed in and started shaking his sleeping body. "Arthur, wake up!"

Arthur moaned in protest as he slowly came to consciousness. He stared at Zosia blearily, blinking at her in surprise. "What? What's going on?"

"You didn't hear that?" yelled Zosia. "None of it? How could you not?"

Dominic stuck his head around the door. "Zosh? What's going on?"

Zosia whirled her head around to look at him. "You didn't hear it either?"

"Hear _what_? Zosh, are you drunk?"

Arthur reached for his glasses, and frowned as he slipped them on. "Is there...is there blood on my sheets?" He saw Zosia's face, then her hands. "Oh my god...Zosia, you're hurt!"

"What?" Dominic walked over to her to inspect the wounds as well. "Zosh, you're bleeding! What happened?"

"I...I..." Zosia took a step back. What could she say? Clearly Arthur and Dominic hadn't heard the Cenobite's visit. Was it only reserved for those who solved the Box? She couldn't tell them the truth - they'd think she'd fully lost her mind. "Nothing..." she said nervously.

Arthur flicked on his lamp, and took her hands, examining the cuts in greater detail. "We need to get these cleaned up. Dom - get the first aid kit."

"Got it." Dominic rushed to fetch it.

"Okay...just come with me," said Arthur gently, leading Zosia into the kitchen. "Why were you trying to wake me so badly? Was it because you'd had an accident? Though..." He shook his head. "I'm not really sure what kind of accident could cause _these._"

Zosia said nothing, and let herself be lead to the kitchen table, where Dominic was waiting with the first aid kit. She remained silent as the two men cleaned her wounds, and applied dressing. She ignored all of their questions, and tried to work out her next move.

"Finished!" said Arthur with a small flourish. "Not bad, even if I do say so myself."

"I helped, remember?" interjected Dominic.

Arthur ignored him. "Luckily they were just...ah...surface cuts for the most part. Not very deep - plus they didn't harm anything vital. Just flesh wounds, really. Although...still quite mysterious flesh wounds. The ones on your hands look like they came from...well, from hooks of some kind."

"Zosia?" said Dominic softly. "We're worried about you, sweetie. Tell us what happened."

"Did you..." Arthur paused and took a deep breath. "Did you do this to yourself, Zosia? On purpose?"

Zosia looked up and met his gaze. "No," she said firmly.

"Well, you have to admit it's kind of odd," said Dominic. "We're _not_ accusing you of anything, but...you _have _to admit that you've been acting..."

"Very erratically," finished Arthur. "And I...we just want to help you. I mean, get you the help you need."

"I know what I need to do," said Zosia quietly. She rose from the table. "I'm sorry for waking you both, but I need...I need to go to bed. Big day tomorrow - I'm going back to work."

"Wait, is that _it?"_ asked Dominic. "We deserve an explanation, Zosh."

"And is going back to work _really_ such a good idea?" added Arthur. "Plus then there's the fact that you just walked out several days ago without permission and haven't shown up since, which could complicate your return a _little._"

"Thank you for patching me up," said Zosia gratefully. "I mean it. You two are the greatest friends anyone could ask for." She turned and walked back to her room, ignoring the protests behind her. She needed her rest - she knew what she had to do now.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Zosia did indeed return to work, or at least, she returned to the hospital. She had more important things on her mind than her job. After a quick detour to pick something up, she strode through Keller ward with purpose. Her head was clear now, for the first time in days. She had a job to do, and nothing would get in her way.<p>

Sacha Levy spotted her, and walked over. "Ah, Doctor March - glad to see you back! I have to say your disappearance had us all worried, and it _is_ something we need to talk about..." He tailed off as he realised that Zosia wasn't stopping. "Doctor March?" he called after her. "Zosia? Come back - you can't just ignore me like this..."

"Doctor Levy?" It was Arthur, Zosia could hear. "I need to speak to you...it's about Doctor March..."

Zosia wondered what they might be talking about, but she had no time to wonder, and certainly no time to stop and see. She continued her journey, and presently arrived at her ultimate destination - the CEO's office. Not bothering to knock, she strode in. Her father and Colette were there - neither seemed surprised to see her, oddly enough.

"Good morning, Zoshie," said her father calmly. "I've just had a very interesting phone call about you. How are your face and hands?"

"Don't Zoshie me!" said Zosia. She took a deep breath - she needed to remain calm. "I need to talk to you."

"Of course, darling," said her father soothingly. "Can I just make one phone call, please?"

"No!"

Guy ignored her. He picked up his phone and dialled a number. "Yes, it's me," he said after a minute. "She's here."

While he was on the phone, Colette leaned towards Zosia. "Zosh? Do you want to take a seat? You look like you're ready to explode..."

Zosia angrily swung her head to look at Colette. "If I find out you knew..."

"Knew what?" asked Colette, looking genuinely baffled.

Guy hung up. "Sorry about that, darling. Now, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Zosia tried to remain calm, even though every fibre of her body wanted to burst with rage. "I...I _know_ what you did. What you did to Mama."

"I don't understand..."

"Liar!" Zosia pulled the Box from her pocket and slammed it down on the table. "Recognise this?"

Guy's expression did not change. "You took that from the house, right? I thought you didn't take anything else. Any other surprises I have to look forward to?"

"What is it?" asked Colette.

"A trinket. Something Anya picked up on a holiday once. A puzzle Box, I think." Guy looked at Zosia. "What does it have to do with anything?"

"Oh, it's more than _just_ a puzzle Box, Dad - as you well know! I know that you opened this, and I know what you did afterwards." Zosia shook her head. "How could you do that to Mama? I thought you loved her..."

"Guy?" asked Colette, clearly very confused.

"I'm as lost as you are, Colette," said Guy calmly. "Now, why don't you sit down, Zoshie, and we can talk about this..."

"You killed her!" screamed Zosia, causing Colette to jump back in shock. "You killed Mama, and then you made me think _I_ did it!"

"Zosh," said Colette, her voice a little unnerved now, "Guy didn't kill anyone. I know that you're hurting, and that you miss Anya, but you have to know _that._"

"How can you be so _calm_?" yelled Zosia at Guy, ignoring Colette. "How can you sit there, knowing what you did? You play the grieving husband, the...the...beleaguered father so well, but I know what you are...I know!"

"I'm calm," said Guy, standing up slowly, " because I know that you're not in your right mind, and that your mind is making up ridiculous fantasies, and that you don't really believe any of this. I only want to help you."

Zosia was trying her best not to lose it, but it wasn't working. How could he be so _calm?_ He knew what he'd done, didn't he? At least, what she heavily suspected he'd done. Could she be wrong? Could her mother have actually opened the Box on her own after all? Could her father be innocent?

No. No...Zosia knew her mother. She knew what her mother could have done, and what she couldn't. She would never have opened the Box - it had been her father, and now he was denying it. Clearly, her current approach wasn't working - it was time for some added incentive. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the item she had made a detour to collect - a scalpel.

At this, Colette leapt to her feet. "Jesus! Zosia, what the fuck..?"

Guy held a hand out to stop her. "It's okay, Colette." He turned to Zosia. "Zoshie, listen to me. You're ill. You've been harming yourself - Doctor Digby told me all about last night, and your behaviour over the last few days. You're not well, darling."

Zosia brandished the scalpel towards him. "Don't give me that! You tried to blame me for Mama, now you're trying to act like I'm crazy! Why won't you just admit it? Set her free! If you ever really loved her, then just..."  
>Guy stepped around from behind his desk, taking a few tentative steps towards her, despite Colette's panicked warnings. "Zosia...just listen to me. I don't know what you <em>think<em> happened, but whatever it is - you're wrong. I loved your mother. I would _never_ have done anything to hurt her."

He took a few more steps towards her. Zosia waved the scalpel in his direction. "Stay back!" she yelled. "I mean it - you can't talk your way out of this!"

"I'm sorry," he said, his tone utterly sincere. "I was wrong in the way I talked to you the other day. You're probably just feeling guilty..."

The reminder of that particular conversation caused Zosia to finally erupt. She was unclear at the exact order of the events that followed, but she knew that right after he said that, she had screamed at the top of her voice, and he had tried to make a lunge for the scalpel. She had slashed at him to keep him at bay, and sliced his arm, causing a spray of blood to hit against the wall of the office and drip down onto the baseboard.

Then Colette had started screaming too. After that, it was all a bit of a blur - her father had been yelling in pain, Colette was rushing to his aid, Zosia was ranting and threatening - the exact sequence of events was unclear. All Zosia was sure of was that at some point security had burst in and tackled her to the ground, while she screamed accusations and obscenities at her father. She had kicked and bit, but could not break free. Then there had been a pin prick, and the world had gone dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight:**

When the world came back into view, Zosia found herself staring up into the faces of her father, Colette, Jessie and Arthur. From the decor around them, it looked as if she was in a private room on Keller. She tried to sit up, but could not. A quick glance to her side revealed that she was restrained.

"Zoshie," said her father softly. "Can you hear me?"

She tried to nod, and her body was slow to respond. Her mind felt foggy, and she found it hard to speak. Eventually she managed a sluggish nod.

"Good," said Guy. His arm was bandaged, she noted. Had that been something to do with her? She felt that it had. "You're on Keller. We're waiting for a psych consult."

Memories of what had happened in the CEO's office were coming back to her now. "Let me go," she slurred.

"Can't do that, Zosh," said Jessie. "You're sick, okay? We're going to get you better...but you need to trust us."

Colette gave a forced smile. "He's right, Zosh. You're ill."

"No..." Zosia shook her head. "I'm not ill...I knew what I was doing."

Guy shook his head. "I'm sorry...I can't deal with this. I have to go...but rest assured, darling - we are going to get you well again." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. His touch repulsed her - she wanted to spit in his face, but her throat was too dry. He and Jessie left, leaving her with Colette and Arthur.

She looked at Arthur, the pain of his betrayal gnawing at her. "How could you?" she hissed.

"Okay, listen," said Arthur defensively. "You're hurting yourself...you're a drunken mess most of the time...you're attacking people with scalpels. Don't you see how sick you are? You're a danger to yourself and others, so I did what I had to do." He rubbed his eyes. "I'm just...I'm really worried about you, Zosia. You need help, and since you weren't getting it yourself, I did it for you."

"Just get out," muttered Zosia.

Colette sighed. "He's right, Zosh. I thought you were just being a brat, but you're _seriously_ ill. I know you won't believe this at the moment, but I care about you. We all do, and that's why we're doing this."

"I said get out!"

Arthur and Colette shared a look, then got up to leave. Arthur left first, but before Colette could go, Zosia called her name. She paused, and looked back at Zosia. "What?"

"Why are you so loyal to him?" asked Zosia quietly. "You'd do anything for him, but...you have to know, deep down - he won't do the same for you. He'll throw you away as soon as he doesn't need you. It's his way."

Colette stared at Zosia for a moment, then turned and walked away, not saying a word. Zosia tried to struggle against her bonds, but to avail. She glanced around in frustration, and caught sight of her father watching her through the glass. Everyone else had gone, and he was standing alone. When she caught his eye, he smiled at her - a smile that she knew very well.

It was the smile he gave when he had won - when he had taken someone on, and beaten them. He thought he'd beaten her. No - he _knew_ he'd beaten her. Zosia had been given one chance, and she'd blown it - now Guy would go free, and she and her mother were condemned to eternity in the Labyrinth.

Zosia closed her eyes, letting tears run down her face. "I'm sorry, Mama," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>The next few hours saw no changes for Zosia's situation. No-one see knew saw fit to visit her - all clearly shaken by the events of the morning, and she was left with a variety of anonymous nurses and doctors. The psyche appointment didn't happen - Zosia had no doubt her father was pulling strings to get the consultant - and thus outcome - that he wanted. She had no doubt that she would be sectioned before too long. No-one would believe her story - and why should they? Zosia scarcely believed it herself.<p>

It didn't matter, anyway. Soon the Cenobites would return to claim her, and she would be gone - reunited with her mother in a way, although unable to communicate with her at all. Despite all the horrors that the Cenobites promised, that would be the most painful torture of all.

The sky outside was dark now, and she was alone. She had tried to break her bonds, but the tight leather straps were not for budging. All she could was lie in bed, and quietly despair. The ward was quiet now - the night shift going about their business. They would come in to do her obs regularly, but apart from that, she saw no-one.

As Zosia lay in her bed, a cold blue light fell across her, and she felt her stomach lurch. So this was it - the return she had been expecting.

Illuminated from behind by the blue phosphorescence, she saw the Lead Cenobite step into view, appearing from beyond the far wall of the room. Was the Labyrinth always so close, she wondered? Did it always lurk just beyond the walls of the reality she knew? Did the Cenobites hide just behind the dark corners of the world, ready to break through at a moment's notice when

summoned? Were their victims there too? Could they see into the world they had lost from their prisons of experience? She would find out soon enough, she mused. She had already learned that the reality she knew was far more fragile than anyone realised.

Standing in the light, the Lead Cenobite appeared as a silhouette, the dark shadow of his nail-ridden head cast over Zosia. He was alone this time, his companions nowhere to be seen.

"**I am disappointed,"** he said. "**I saw potential in you, but you have failed us. We had a deal, and you have not delivered. As I said before, we do not like tricksters."**

"I wasn't tricking you," protested Zosia. "I just wasn't able to make him confess. Things just...got out of control."

"**And now you have no chance to correct that." **He smiled, almost sadly. "**Your mother was most excited at the chance of freedom, you know. The agony she felt when you failed was almost too sweet to taste."**

"She knew?" whispered Zosia, horrified. "She could see me? She could see everything?"

"**Of course. There is no better suffering than that of hope being destroyed. You did us a great service, child, and now you will come with us."**

"I'm sorry, Mama!" yelled Zosia. "I tried...oh god, I tried..." Something occurred to her - a chance for success - a small chance, but a chance nonetheless. "Wait!"

"**No more games."**

"You said I'd done you a service? By my actions?" Zosia tried to struggle free, but there was still no freedom to be had.

The Lead Cenobite cocked his head to one side. "**Go on.**"

"Then I want a favour...one service for another."

"**You ask **_**us **_**for a favour?**" The Lead Cenobite laughed - a mocking, cruel laugh. "**Do you think we **_**owe**_** you something, child? Your actions caused us amusement and your mother despair, nothing more."**

"A few hours," pleaded Zosia. "Please - that's all I ask. Isn't it worth it, to catch a trickster? To punish someone who's got one over on you?"

"**Perhaps we already have one. Someone who would say anything to escape her fate. Someone who promises something she cannot deliver."**

"Just a few hours more," she begged. "I can't escape you - you know that. What harm would it do? And I'll deliver my father, I swear."

The Lead Cenobite stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, his expression unreadable. Was he considering her offer, or just toying with her? Finally, he nodded. "**Very well. But know this - we may be forever, but our patience is not. You have until dawn. You may deliver us your father, and you may not, but remember - you are ours either way. Come the dawn..." **He smiled coldly. "**We'll tear your soul apart."**

With that, he was gone and Zosia was alone again. The thought that she had just leveraged her mother's suffering for a deal sickened her, but she had no time for reflection - she had to escape.

_How_, though, was a question she had yet to answer. Looking down at the restraints, Zosia considered her options, and finally hit on an idea - an unappealing idea, but the only one she could think of. She waited until her next set of obs - once that was finished, she would have half an hour by herself. Enough time - hopefully - to escape, and make her way to the CEO's office before anyone noticed. The security in Holby was notoriously lax, so she didn't anticipate any problems getting there. She only hoped that her father was there, and that he was alone, otherwise it would surely be a repeat of the last time.

Once the obs were finished, Zosia waited until the nurse had gone, then started pulling her left hand through the restraint. It didn't fit, of course, but with enough persistence and pain, Zosia hoped she could force it through. She bit her lip as her skin was rubbed raw by the leather, then bit down harder as the skin broke, the leather now rubbing against the wound.

She tried not to cry out in pain as the agony shot up her left arm. One positive side effect was that the blood lubricated her hand somewhat, and it began to slip through. Almost immediately, it caught on the base of her thumb, but Zosia was not to be stopped, and she kept pulling with all of her strength until finally, with a sickening crack, her thumb dislocated, and her hand slipped through the restraint.

Zosia gave a muffled grunt of pain, and bit down hard enough on her lip to drawn blood. She paused for a moment, waiting to see if anyone had heard her and come to investigate. When no-one arrived, she used her free hand to undo the cuff from the other hand. It wasn't easy, especially as her left hand was next to useless thanks to the dislocated thumb and open wounds, but she managed it.

Now free, she gritted her teeth, and reset her thumb, breath escaping through her teeth in an agonised gasp. She took stock of her left hand - it was still bleeding, but the wounds didn't seem to be deep. It had pulled off Arthur's dressing from the previous night and opened the wound, however.

Rising from her bed, and making sure no-one was watching, Zosia walked over and grabbed some supplies from a nearby trolley, cleaning and dressing her hand as best she could. That done, she prepared to make her escape from her private room. She would have liked to get dressed, but her clothes were nowhere to be found. This would just have to be done in a hospital gown.

Cracking open the door, Zosia peeked around it. There was no-one near her, thankfully. All of the staff members were at the other end of the ward, and all of the patients seemed to be asleep. As quietly as she could, she slipped through the door, and made her way out of Keller.

She made her way quickly but quietly through the hospital corridors, making sure that every route she took was clear of people. Maybe the majority of people in the hospital wouldn't know who she was, but any patient wandering the halls in the middle of the night was bound to invite questions, and that was something she definitely did not need.

Whatever they had injected to sedate her earlier was still fogging her mind slightly, but she would not be charmed or persuaded by her father this time. Her purpose was clear, and nothing would get in the way.

The trip to the CEO's office was longer than usual - Zosia made sure to use the less well travelled corridors to lessen the chances of an unwanted encounter. When she got to the office, she was glad to see that the light was still on. She placed her ear to the door, trying to detect any sound of conversation - anything that might suggest Colette or anyone else was there with her father.

There was nothing but silence.

For a moment, Zosia was afraid that the office was empty. Maybe her father had gone home, leaving the light on? It was the middle of the night, after all. No - she knew her father's habits. After such a trying day, he'd have retreated to his office, probably with a bottle of scotch or two. He wouldn't have wanted to go home. She had childhood memories of her mother taking phone calls from him - patiently telling Guy that no, she didn't mind if he stayed at work, and yes, she knew he'd had a hard day and needed to unwind. He hadn't changed since then.

Zosia steeled herself, and walked into the office. Her father was indeed there, alone. He was sat behind his desk, a large attache case and bottle of scotch both open in front of him. The Box was still sitting on his desk from where she had slammed it down. As she entered, he looked up and caught her eyes, and his face shifted into a look of pure rage for a split-second before he caught himself and switched back to his 'caring' face.

"Zoshie," he said, an air of desperation in his voice. He closed the briefcase quickly, but not before Zosia caught a glimpse of the contents. "What are you doing here? You're _ill_, darling. You need to get back to bed, and concentrate on getting well. I'm going to call the nurse, and after I ascertain exactly why my mentally ill daughter is roaming the corridors unsupervised, I'll get someone..."

He was reaching for his phone as he spoke, but Zosia cut him off before he had finished talking. "Go ahead - call someone. I bet they'd be _very_ interested to learn why you've got a briefcase full of money with you. Clean out the account, did you?" She reached behind her and locked the door.

Guy reached for the phone again but paused, clearly trying to decide what to do. Eventually, he withdrew and tried to give an understanding smile. It was the fakest thing Zosia had ever seen. "Okay. We'll play it your way. As long as you don't attack me with a scalpel again. These arms are my livelihood, you know."

"I'm unarmed," said Zosia, "unless you count the truth."

"Oh, _please._ I don't know what you think you know, but..."

"I met them, you know. The Cenobites. Did you see them? When they took Mama? Or were you hiding, afraid to see what you'd done?" Zosia shook her head. "I bet you were afraid. You've always been a coward - always so good at making things seem like someone else's fault - so good at evading responsibility for fuck-ups - so good at _seeming_ like you're supporting someone, while really stabbing them in the back."

Guy stood up and walked around his desk, stopping slightly short of Zosia. "Zoshie, it kills me to see you like this. So paranoid, so..."

"Of course, you've always been good at tricks, haven't you? Sleight-of-hand, misdirection...I suppose this is just more of that."

"All right...I've tried to be patient - to indulge this," said Guy angrily. "But this has to stop..."

"Shut up!" yelled Zosia. "How can you be so calm? You condemned her to the Labyrinth! You condemned her to...to Hell! You _knew_ what they do there. You _knew_ what they'd do to her!"

"Be quiet," snarled Guy, grabbing Zosia by the shoulders. "I said be quiet, damn you!"

Zosia stared him straight in the eyes. "You _loved_ her. I know you did..."

"You stupid girl! You don't know anything..."

"So how _could _you, _Dad_?" Zosia pushed Guy back with all of her strength, sending him stumbling backwards. "How could you do that?"

Guy stared unblinkingly at Zosia, his mouth moving, but no sound coming out. "You...you're wrong," he mumbled finally.

Zosia took a step towards him. "I'm not, am I? I'm right, and you know I'm right. Has it bothered you over the last year? Has she tried to visit you in dreams, too?"

"She..." Guy closed his eyes and grasped his head. "She couldn't have..."

"She didn't, did she?" Zosia gave a hollow laugh. "Why would she? What would be the point? You have no remorse, after all..."

"That's not..." Guy jabbed his finger at her. "Don't judge me! I loved her just as much as you did!"

"Then why?" pleaded Zosia. "Why did you do it?"

"Because I was scared!" yelled Guy. "Is that what you want to hear? I was scared!"

A bleak silence fell on the room. Guy and Zosia looked at each other for what seemed like an eternity, until finally Guy turned away and buried his head in his hands.

Zosia let out a sob. Until that exact moment, she hadn't been sure - she'd suspected that her father had done it, but a part of her had wished he hadn't - that he was innocent, that it had been a mistake. But now she knew - now she knew that her father really had sent her mother - his wife - to Hell. "What happened?" she whispered.

Her father didn't turn to face her. "She - your mother - was sick...and taking care of her was...tiring." He sighed. "I needed a way to relax...to _indulge_ myself."

"You've never had much of a problem indulging yourself," spat out Zosia.

"Look who's talking," said her father sharply, shooting her a baleful look. "Anyway...when I wasn't taking care of her, I...I lived...shall we say, a hedonistic lifestyle?"

"And how's that different from the rest of your life?"

"You weren't there!" yelled Guy. "You don't know how hard it was! You were off at university, no doubt drinking and fucking and whatever else you do to enjoy yourself, while I was watching my wife die!"

"I would have been there if you had called! Mama wanted to tell me - it's in her diary! Why didn't she?"

"I..." Guy looked at Zosia, then shook his head. "You don't understand...I'd found the Box by then. I'd been told that it offered pleasures...pleasures that far surpassed anything to be found in _this_ world."

"Told by who?"

Guy ignored her. "I didn't really find it, though," he said, almost to himself. "It finds you, really...it's like it can sense people who want to open it, and it finds them..."

"Oh, I see..." Zosia wiped angry tears away from her face. "You wanted to open it, and you didn't want Zoshie around to spoil things. You stopped Mama from telling me, didn't you?"

"Just until I'd opened it," said Guy defensively. "Then I would have told you...but _they_ changed all that."

"The Cenobites," said Zosia. "Not exactly what you'd been expecting, were they? So tell me, how did you trick them?"

"Does it matter?" Guy walked over to the table and downed a glass of scotch. "You're right, by the way - the case is full of money. The bank were a little suspicious about me withdrawing it all, but I've known the manager a long time. He was happy to smooth things over."

"So...what now?" asked Zosia. "You're making a run for it?"

"You've left me little choice, darling." Guy shrugged. "I can have you sectioned without much problem - half the hospital thinks you were already insane, even before your little attack. But it might raise some tricky questions, and I really can't have anyone looking into this whole affair _too_ closely."

"The man at the funeral parlour might crack, for instance." At that, Guy looked up in surprise. "The grave's empty, isn't it? You bribed him to stage a fake funeral." She smiled grimly. "Yeah...I wouldn't put any money on him staying quiet under questioning."

"You always were too damn smart," muttered Guy. "So yes, I'm going to disappear for a while. I'll get you sectioned - sorry - then take it from there. I've got enough to live on quite comfortably for some time."

"How can you live with the guilt?" demanded Zosia.

Guy glared at her. "You think it isn't killing me? It _is._ But there's nothing I can do about it. If I could bring your mother back, I would - but it's a one-way trip! She's gone, Zoshie and we just have to live with it, and in my case - with what I've done. Believe me...you can't punish me any more than I'm punishing myself."

Zosia snorted in disgust. "At least tell me how. You owe me that before you try to get me imprisoned again."

"You really want to hear it?" Guy shrugged. "Magic tricks. Sleight-of-hand. All the things I tried to teach you, but that you were never interested in. I did my research first - the Cenobites are powerful, but not unstoppable. There are glyphs...wards..._spells_ - for want of a better word - that can keep them at bay for a time - that can fool them. When they arrived, and were not...exactly what I had been expecting, I simply used some of what I had learned to make them think..." He closed his eyes, as if in painful memory. "That Anya...poor, sick Anya had opened the Box. And then..." A tear actually rolled down his cheek, much to Zosia's disgust. "And then they took her."

"Don't you _dare_ cry for her!" shouted Zosia. "You sat and watched as your actions doomed the woman you loved! I knew you were a piece of shit, but even I didn't realise how much until now!"

"She was dying anyway!" protested Guy. "My work...it can save so many lives. I still have _so_ much more good I can do! Anya's time was...it was up."

"So you sent her to Hell?" Zosia laughed. "God, listen to yourself! You're a coward - a despicable coward."

"And I've got to live with that." Guy reached for his phone again. "Time to get back to bed, Zoshie. I'm going to call someone to come get you." He paused for a second. "I know you can never forgive me...but understand my reasons, at least. Besides, as I told you, there's nothing we can do."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," muttered Zosia, as a familiar music box tune began to play.

"What?" Guy frowned. "What's that sound...?" He and Zosia both looked over at the Box. It had opened now, and the tune was playing while the Box began to slide into a new configuration. "What the hell?"

A church bell started tolling in the background, causing Guy to stumble back in fear. As he did so, a shadow fell over the room, and a cold blue light began to shine through the blinds, and through the edges of the walls.

"No..." said Guy in despair, stumbling back a few more times. "No, this can't be happening..."

A chain shot out from the darkness, cutting off his route. Many more followed, criss-crossing the room and surrounding Guy and Zosia, preventing either from leaving.

"I didn't open the Box!" yelled Guy. "You can't _do_ this!"

And then the wall behind him flew apart, its pieces flying inwards, into the Labyrinth now visible through the opening. A voice came from within. "_Can't?"_ it whispered. "_We are not your playthings to toy with."_

It was the Female Cenobite. She walked into the office, hook in hand, scraping it against the wall. Blood poured from her trail. "_You, however, are _our_ plaything now. We will show you what it means to be truly used for another's amusement."_

Guy looked around in a panic, trying to seek a way to flee, but the Large Cenobite and the Chattering Cenobite were now flanking him - blocking off any chance of escape. As he frantically gazed around the room, his eyes met Zosia's. "You!" he screamed. "You did this!"

"I did it for Mama!" said Zosia firmly. "She deserved better."

"You stupid little _cunt,"_ snarled Guy, lunging at her. "I'll kill..." Before he could reach her, another chain shot out and impaled him through the shoulder, holding him back. He groaned in pain, and tried to extract the hook, but another chain snagged his arm and pulled it away.

More chains shot out, all of them digging into Guy - into his arms, his legs, his torso - all over his body, then they all pulled taut, lifting him off the ground and suspending him in the air.

He screamed in pain as they did so, directing his fury at Zosia. "Bitch! Fucking whore! I should have made her get rid of you, but she wanted a kid! She begged me and begged me to let her keep you, and like an idiot, I listened!"

"Shut up!" yelled Zosia. "Just shut up!"

"I should have done it myself," gasped Guy. "Just cut you from the womb...I would have been spared all the disappointment...twenty-seven years of watching you whore your way through the world, watching you disgrace _my_ reputation, watching you act like the drunken, stupid bitch that you are...knowing that _you_ - of all people - would be my legacy to the world..."

"Stop it," begged Zosia, tears streaming down her face.

Her father's tirade was interrupted by another voice coming from the Labyrinth. "**Guy,**" said the Lead Cenobite calmly as he strode into the office. "**We meet at last."**

**"**I didn't open the Box," said her father, in between gasps of pain. "There are rules..."

"**Oh yes. There **_**are**_** rules, Guy."**The Lead Cenobite stopped next to Guy's suspended form. "**Rules which you tried to break. You tried to trick us, and we do not take kindly to such actions."**

**"**Don't take me," begged Guy. "Please - I made a mistake. I didn't know what would happen. _Please don't take me!_"

"**Too late," **said the Lead Cenobite. "**You are ours now, and we plan to make up for lost time. Your suffering will be legendary, even in Hell." **He turned to Zosia. **"Go now - this isn't for your eyes."**

"I _want_ to watch," snarled Zosia, with a ferocity that surprised even herself.

The corner of the Lead Cenobite's mouth curled up almost imperceptibly, as if in a smile. "**As you wish."**

Chains shot out from within the Labyrinth - almost too many to count - all of them hooking into Guy - some in his back, some in the backs of his arms and legs, some in the back of his head, causing him to scream in agony. "Zoshie, _please,_" he screamed. "Don't let them take me!"

A part of Zosia still wanted to save her father, to run forward and try to free him from his torture. Then she remembered what he'd done to her mother, and the desire faded. "This is for Mama," she hissed at him.

Her father stopped screaming and looked straight at her, clearly exerting all of his will to do so. "I never wanted to give them your mother," he gasped through the pain. "The thing that kept going through my head as I did it was that I wished _you_ were there - because I would have given them you instead of Anya in a heartbeat."

Zosia took a step back involuntarily, as if she had been struck in the face. Guy saw her reaction, and began to laugh maniacally. As he did so, the chains in his back started to retract into the Labyrinth. However, the ones that held him aloft remained where they were, so for each chain that retracted, a piece of flesh went with it. His laughter turned into screams quickly as his body was torn apart one piece at a time.

As the flesh on each of his limbs was pulled away, more chains flew from the darkness to replace those that had gone. Skin was torn off first, then muscles and tendons, until only bloody bones remained. Then they too were pulled back into the Labyrinth as Guy screamed a mix of incoherence and obscenities, mostly directed at his daughter.

Zosia felt herself stumble back into the door and slide down it as the grisly scene unfolded in front of her, unable to pull her eyes away. She heard a plaintive cry of 'Daddy?' from her own lips, but still she watched.

Finally only Guy's head remained, and it was pulled back into the Labyrinth, still screaming as it went. When it had vanished from view, the rest of the chains followed, leaving Zosia and the Cenobites in the office alone.

The Female Cenobite advanced towards Zosia, a cold smile on her lips. "_And now for you, Zosia."_

Zosia was too numb to move, but even if she hadn't been, she wouldn't have tried to escape. She'd known that this would be her eventual fate. No point in trying to fight it.

Before the Female Cenobite could reach her, the Lead Cenobite's held up his hand. "**Wait."**

The Female Cenobite frowned, but paused her advance. "_Wait?"_

"**Leave," **commanded the Lead Cenobite. "**I will join you presently."**

The other three Cenobites shared a glance, but clearly knew better than to defy their leader. They walked out of the office, back into the Labyrinth, and soon disappeared from view.

Zosia gingerly got to her feet, her whole body trembling with disgust and fear. "So..." she said, trying to keep her voice from cracking. "Now I have to go with you? That was our deal, right?"

"**That was our deal."**

"Is..." Zosia swallowed nervously and tried to stop herself shaking. "Is my mother free? Did you let her go?"

The Lead Cenobite fixed her with a withering glance. "**We** **honour our deals. She is no longer in our realm."**

**"**Then where is she?"

"**That is not our concern, nor was that information part of our arrangement."**

Talking to the Lead Cenobite terrified her, but Zosia forced herself to press on. "But you're not...she's not being tortured any more?"

"**No. She is not being tortured - she is not in pain. I will give you that information as reward for the gift of your father.**"

"Where would she have gone?"

"**Again, it is not our concern. But there are other realms, other dimensions that can be reached. Ours is simply one of many."**

"Like...like Heaven?"

He smiled coldly. "**Spare me such foolishness**_._"

Zosia stared downwards. "So...this is it? Time for me to go with you?"

The Lead Cenobite regarded her for a moment, then spoke. "**I admit, it is tempting, but no."**

That was something Zosia had _not_ been expecting. "What?" she said. "But...why?" Then she realised that it sounded like she was _asking _to be taken, and wished she had stayed quiet.

"**Knowing your flesh at this time would be an exquisite pleasure,"** said the Lead Cenobite, "**but we are forever. We have time, and there will be an even greater pleasure coming."**

"I don't understand..."

The Lead Cenobite walked over to Zosia, stopping just short of her. He looked down at her and smiled. "**You **_**want**_** our pleasures, Zosia. We could take you now, but it will be far, far sweeter when you submit to them willingly. We are prepared to wait for that."**

"You're wrong," whispered Zosia. "I don't want..."

"**It is not merely hands that open the Box, it is **_**desire.**_** You sensed what it was, and it felt that. That is why you could open it."**

Zosia shook her head furiously. "You're wrong! Do you think I want to be tortured? I was willing to do it for Mama, that's all!"

"**I thought at first you merely wanted to experience our ways, that is true...but in watching you, I have realised that you not only wish to experience them - you want to be the one **_**inflicting **_**them."**

"No," whispered Zosia. "You're wrong...what you do is sick! I don't..."

**"You have a burning desire in you to punish. You wish to find the depraved, the guilty and the damned and make them suffer."** He walked slowly to the desk and picked up the Box. **"I do not need to convince you of this, however. You already know I am right. Your father was not the only guilty person you have pursued over the years, am I right? There have been others - those whose crimes you have seeked to expose, whose lies you have wished to reveal - those you seek to **_**punish **_**for their misdeeds. And who better to punish than those who wish it? We care little for any morality you may understand - but we would allow you to fulfill your desire to cause pain, and that is why you were drawn to the Box."**

Zosia shook her head, but she could not meet his eyes, nor bring herself to speak a denial.

"**Farewell, Zosia**," said the Lead Cenobite. "**One day you will open the Box again, and you will ask to become one of us. Until then, we will be watching...and waiting**."

He closed the Box, and in the blink of an eye, was gone. The office was empty again and the opening to the Labyrinth had vanished, as had any trace of the Cenobites _or_ the Box. Also, despite her father's dismemberment, there was no blood or remains anywhere. The office was as clean as when she had entered it.

The memory of her father's bloody exit made Zosia want to vomit, but she suppressed the urge. Instead, she unlocked the door and sank down into a chair, completely drained. She had no energy to do anything but blankly stare at the ceiling, attempting to understand the events that had just unfolded.

It was no surprise, however, when after just a few minutes, the door to the office swung open and Jessie and Colette both rushed in, followed by two security guards. They looked around the office, clearly looking for any sign of her father.

"Zosh!" said Colette, going to her side. "Where's Guy?"

"I came to talk to my father," said Zosia distantly, "but he isn't here."

"Do you know where he is?" asked Jessie, frowning as he opened the briefcase on the desk.

"No." A half truth, but better than trying to explain what had happened.

"Zosia," said Colette softly. "You didn't..._do_ anything to him, did you?"

Zosia slowly shook her head. "I didn't do anything to him." That, at least, was basically true. The Cenobites had done it all. She had simply facilitated it.

"Colette," said Jessie, showing her the open briefcase. "Look at this."

Colette rubbed her forehead. "Jesus," she whispered. "What is going on here?"

"Wish I knew," said Jessie with a shrug.

"Why are you here?" asked Zosia, frowning slightly. All she wanted to do was sleep now. It was getting hard to think through her fatigue.

"The nurse on duty noticed you were gone, and called me," said Colette, bending down to examine Zosia. "I called Jessie, we figured you'd come here, and...well, here we are." She lifted up Zosia's injured arm. "Oh Zosh...what did you do to yourself?"

"I had to escape. I had to see him," said Zosia dreamily. "But he isn't here..."

Colette smiled sympathetically at her. "Come on - let's get this looked at, then get you back to bed, okay?"

Zosia nodded, and allowed Colette to help her to her feet.

"It's okay," said Jessie to the security guards. "I think we've got her." He closed the briefcase and lifted it up. "You're _sure _you haven't seen Guy?" he asked Zosia. She shook her head. Jessie sighed. "All right. I think we need to call Serena."

"I'll take care of Zosia," said Colette. "You call Serena."

"And tell her what, exactly?" Jessie shook his head. "Shit...I don't know what's going on here, but something's not right..."

"You'll think of something." Colette started to lead Zosia out of the office. "Just going to fix your arm, then I think you need to rest, right?"

That sounded immensely appealing to Zosia.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

Colette brought her back to Keller, patched her arm up and returned her to bed. Zosia didn't resist and they didn't bother with any restraints this time. They did, however, place a security guard at the door, but Zosia didn't care. Almost as soon as her head touched the pillow, she was dead to the outside world.

Her sleep was peaceful, and there was no appearance of the Labyrinth, the Cenobites, or either of her parents in her dreams. Instead, she rested.

When she finally awoke, it was daytime, and Jessie and Colette were sitting at her bedside, slightly forced smiles on both of their faces.

"Finally!" said Colette. "I was starting to think you'd never wake up."

"Is it morning?" asked Zosia sleepily, trying to sit up in the bed.

"It's the morning _after_," said Jessie. "You've been asleep for eighteen hours. You must have been exhausted."

"Not to mention severely dehydrated and malnourished," added Colette. "When was the last time you ate or drank anything? That _wasn't_ alcoholic, I mean."

"I..." Zosia couldn't remember. "I don't know."

"Well, don't worry, you've got the best nurse in the hospital looking after you now," said Colette.

"Oh, has Mary-Claire come back?" muttered Jessie, which prompted Colette to chuckle sarcastically at him.

Then Colette's face went serious. "Zosh," she said nervously. "About your dad..."

Zosia felt her stomach churn in fear. "What?"

Colette and Jessie shared a look. "He's...he's vanished, Zosh," said Jessie quietly. "He emptied his bank account, but seems to have vanished without taking the money, which is...weird."

"Not half as weird," said Colette, "as the story the funeral home gave us. Apparently you visited them a few days ago?" At Zosia's nod, she continued. "Well, you must have made an impression on the guy who runs it, cause he turned himself into the police yesterday. It's..." She paused and shook her head in disbelief. "It's about your mum's funeral..."

"It was a fake," said Zosia softly. "The coffin's empty, isn't it?"

"You knew?" said Jessie in disbelief. "How?"

"I worked it out. That's what I was going to see him about that day in his office..." That, again, was mostly true. Zosia felt bad about lying to them, but she couldn't tell them the whole truth. They'd never believe her, for a start.

"Fuck..." muttered Colette, rubbing her head. "Yeah, that's right. The police exhumed the grave and it's...it's empty. They don't know if Anya's alive or dead..."

"She's dead," mumbled Zosia.

"How do you know?" asked Colette with a frown.

"I just know," said Zosia blankly. "If she was alive...I'd know."

Jessie and Colette shared another look. Jessie leant down closer to Zosia. "Zosia...maybe you should tell us everything. I mean, the police want to speak to you once you're ready, but...just tell us first, okay?"

"And remember," said Colette, taking Zosia's hand, "we care about you, okay? We just want to help you."

"I know," said Zosia. She smiled sadly, and began her tale. It was, of course, a severely edited version of events, leaving out everything about the Box and the Cenobites. In her version, she had pieced together the truth about the funeral just before she had gone to see Guy with the scalpel, and the thought had disturbed her so much that she hadn't been able to think clearly or explain herself. She had then gone to see him after her escape from Keller, but he hadn't been in his office, and that's when Colette and Jessie had found her.

After she had finished, Zosia tried to subtly gauge the others' reactions - luckily, they seemed to believe her.

"You shouldn't have tried to do it on your own," said Colette, squeezing Zosia's hand. "You could have talked to us."

"I'm sorry," said Zosia, guilt gnawing at her insides. "I just...I just didn't know what to do, and I couldn't handle it...and...and you were right. I _am_ ill. I need to get help."

"You can get all the help you need in here," said Jessie warmly. "Get well, Zosh. It's what your mum would have wanted." He paused and sighed. "I can't believe that Guy would do anything like this...hell, I don't even know what he's done yet!"

"I've got a suspicion," muttered Colette, then realised Zosia was there and caught herself. "Zosh, I'm sorry...this is your _mum_ we're talking about here...I didn't mean to imply..."

"You're just thinking what everyone is," said Zosia calmly. "A fake funeral, an empty grave, a big cash withdrawal, a disappearance...you think he killed her."

"No-one is saying that yet," said Jessie nervously.

"I am. He _did_ kill her," said Zosia quietly. It was close enough to the truth, anyway. Best that no-one got any idea that her father might be innocent. Her coldness shocked her slightly, but she had to do it, for her mother's sake.

"Zosh..." Colette reached out and hugged her. Grateful for the closeness, Zosia hugged her back. "This must be so hard for you..."

"You're taking it _surprisingly _well," said Jessie with a frown.

"I've always known what he was capable of," said Zosia, lying back in the bed. "I just didn't think he'd ever go this far. But Mama is gone, and I just have to accept that, and that my _father" -_ the term caught in her throat - "was responsible. The police will discover that soon, I imagine."

"There _could_ be another explanation," said Jessie uncertainly. "None are immediately springing to mind, though."

"He did it," said Zosia firmly. "I can just...sense it. And believe me, I'm _not_ taking this well. That's why I need help. Just... another one of many reasons."

Colette stroked Zosia's arm soothingly. "I'm glad you're finally accepting help. Christ knows, given all that's gone on, I might need some by the end of it."

Jessie got to his feet. "Anyway...I need to get going. Have an appointment with the fuzz...though god knows what I can tell them." He leaned down and kissed Zosia on the cheek, then put on his hat. "I'll be back to visit."

"You know," said Colette lightly, "that the fedora makes you look like a total twat, don't you?"

He smiled thinly at her. "Don't ever change, Col. Laters!"

And with that, he was gone. Colette turned back to Zosia. "I need to get going too...I've got an appointment after him. Then I think they'll want to speak with you...if you're up for it?" Zosia nodded, and Colette smiled. "Okay...but if you change your mind, let me know. You've been through enough."

Zosia looked up at the older woman, feeling guilty as hell for lying to her. "Colette...why are you so nice to me? I'm usually a total cow to you."

Colette shrugged. "You can't really watch someone grow up from the age of twelve and not feel some kind of responsibility for them...even if you do think they're a mardy little bitch most of the time."

"Yeah, I suppose I can be." Zosia smiled at Colette. "Thank you. For everything - I mean it."

"No problem - you're like the annoying little sister I never wanted." Colette got up to leave, but after she'd taken a few steps, she paused and looked back to Zosia. "Zosh? Do you remember you asked me why I was so loyal to Guy?"

"Colette, you don't have to..."

"You deserve an answer." Colette sighed. "I became a nurse to help people. I know that's a cliche, but it's true. And when you do that, sometimes you fall into the orbit of a person who seems able to achieve anything and shares the same passions that you do, and you think that if you stick with that person, you'll be able to do great things. You'll be able to help patients in ways that you couldn't have imagined before. So you stick with them, and you believe in them, and eventually you'll be with them for so long that you'll just do what they say and take their side no matter what." She smiled sadly. "Even if they never do the same for you. So...that's why."

"You deserved better."

Colette shrugged. "I think we all did. Anyway, I'll talk to you later, Zosh."

Zosia gave her a smile. "Looking forward to it."

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>The police did come and interview Zosia after a few hours, and she gave them the same story that she had given Colette and Jessie. Like the other two, the police seemed to believe her, although they did seem slightly confused as to how her father had managed to leave the hospital without being noticed by anyone, and also why he had left without his money. Zosia opined that perhaps he had noticed her entering the office and left in a hurry, not wishing to confront her, and the police seemed to believe that was possible. She idly wondered if they suspected her of murdering or otherwise harming Guy, but why would they? There had been no trace of Guy in the office, and a woman alone surely couldn't have disposed of a body - unseen by anyone - in the short time between her leaving Keller and being found in the office.<p>

No, she was sure that the police believed her side of the story when they left, promising to keep her updated on any news of her father or her mother (who they had little confidence of finding alive). She smiled, and thanked them, and was grateful for any information they could give her in the future, and the police left her alone.

When they had gone, she was visited by Serena Campbell, who sat down next to Zosia's bed, a slightly uncomfortable smile on her face. "How are we doing, Doctor March?"

"As well as can be expected," said Zosia, with a small shrug. "I suppose you've had a busy morning?"

"Yes..." said Serena, "that is something of an understatement. The board is...well, in turmoil is an accurate description. It isn't every day that your CEO vanishes, _and_ is suspected of murder. Speaking of which, I can't imagine what you must be going through."

"Thank you. I'm...well, I think I'm in the right place. You were right all those months ago - I need to sort myself out, and I'm going to do it."

Serena smiled. "Glad to hear it. Take as much time as you need..."

"I suppose they made you the new CEO."

"Acting." Serena shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "I didn't want to bring it up...it is a somewhat delicate situation..."

"It's fine." Zosia smiled. "They'll make you permanent CEO soon enough. They should have done it in the first place."

"You see, that's what _I_ thought." Serena seemed to visibly relax at that. "And when you're ready...you'd of course be welcome back."

"What?" That shocked Zosia. "As a doctor?"

"Of course. I mean, you would have to repeat the year, obviously, but we'd be happy to have you."

"I attacked the CEO with a scalpel!"

"I'm willing to write that off as a one-time thing." Serena placed her hand on Zosia's shoulder. "You have _so_ much potential, Doctor March. I hate to see it go to waste, and given all that's happened over the past few days..." She smiled. "Well, everyone deserves a ninth or tenth chance, don't they?"

"I don't deserve this," mumbled Zosia.

"Don't tell anyone," said Serena, mock-conspiratorially, "but I'm something of a soft touch. Plus, you remind me of my daughter. Must be the maternal instincts."

"Thank you."

"Oh, believe me - the comparison wasn't entirely a compliment." Serena got to her feet. "Anyway, must dash. More meetings, and I have to make sure the board haven't had heart attacks while figuring out what to tell the press - which is something you and I also need to talk about later."

"Ms Campbell?" said Zosia. "Before you go...I just want to say - I think you'll be magnificent."

Serena smiled. "I know. But thank you for the vote of confidence. We'll talk later, Zosia."

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>The next two visitors to Zosia's room were Dominic and Arthur, who arrived shortly after Serena had left. Dominic had an air of forced joviality about him, and Arthur was looking even more uncomfortable than usual. He was also clutching a tupperware container.<p>

"What's in the container?" asked Zosia.

"Oh!" Arthur looked at it as if he'd forgotten he was holding it. "It's...um...it's cookies! From Maria. She heard you were...unwell, and so she...well, you know."

"She bakes? I didn't know that."

Arthur grimaced slightly. "She's not...well, _I_ wouldn't eat them, to be honest...but it's the thought that counts, right?"

"It's very sweet," said Zosia with a smile.

"Oh, come here!" said Dominic, leaning forward to give her a hug. "How are you doing, sweetie?"

"Okay." She smiled wryly. "Kind of sick of answering the same question, though."

"That's the Zosia we know," said Dominic. "Right, Diggers?"

Arthur didn't reply. Instead he continued to look awkward, before he finally exploded. "God, Zosia, I'm sorry! If I'd had _any_ idea what had been going on, I would never have gotten Psych involved. I'm really, _really_ sorry...I just hope you can..."  
>Zosia reached out and took Arthur's hand. "Arthur, it's okay, really it is. You did the right thing."<p>

"Did I?" Arthur sputtered. "But your father, and your mother, and all that stuff you were dealing with..."

Zosia squeezed his hand warmly. "You did the right thing, Arthur. I was a danger to myself and others, and you saw that. I know you were only trying to protect me."

Dominic clapped him on the shoulder. "See, Diggers, I _told_ you it would be okay. You worry too much."

"Better than not worrying enough," muttered Arthur. "How...how are you doing?"

Zosia shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. I'm where I need to be, and I'm going to get help - and that's thanks to _you,_ Arthur Digby. Please don't beat yourself up about it anymore."

Arthur gave a quick smile and nodded.

"Anyway," said Dominic cheerfully. "Don't worry about a thing. Just come home when you're ready - and we're going to have your room _all_ fixed up, too."

"We are?" asked Arthur incredulously. "I mean, have you _seen_ it? I think we're going to need a new carpet for starters, and..."

"It'll be _fine,_" insisted Dominic. "Chill, Diggers. Zosh doesn't need any more stress at the moment."

Zosia gave a small sob, causing Dominic and Arthur to share a worried look before both quickly asking if she was okay.

"I'm fine," she said, wiping her eyes. "I'm more than fine. It's just...everyone is being so nice to me, and I really don't deserve it."

"You've been through a lot, Zosh...we're just looking out for you," said Dominic. "What are friends for?"

"I'm not a good friend," mumbled Zosia. "Oh god, now I'm doing self-pity."

"You've always been good at that," said Arthur with a grin. At the others' looks he frowned. "It was a joke, all right?"

"You two are the best friends a girl could ask for," said Zosia. "Group hug?"

Arthur held up his hands. "I don't really _do_ group hugs..." At Dominic's chiding look, he sighed. "Okay. Group hug."

The three friends hugged and Zosia held onto the others tightly, savouring the closeness.

After a few moments, a new voice cut in. "I'm sorry...I think I'm interrupting..."

Zosia and the two men broke apart, and she looked over to see who the new arrival was. To her surprise, it was Miranda, standing at the doorway, a nervous look on her face.

"Oh, no!" said Arthur quickly. "You're not interrupting. In fact, Dominic and I were just leaving, weren't we?"

"We just got here," protested Dominic, but Arthur nudged him forcefully. "Ow! Okay, fine, we're going." Rolling his eyes, he followed Arthur out of the room leaving Miranda and Zosia alone together.

With a nervous smile, Miranda sat down beside the bed and looked around awkwardly before speaking. "How..."

"Miranda..." The two women shared a smile as they tailed off after speaking over each other.

Miranda gestured to Zosia. "You go first - you're the invalid, after all."

"Oh, _thank_ you." Zosia sighed. "I was just going to say, don't ask me how I am or be nice to me, because I'm sick of the former, and I don't deserve the latter."

"It's your lucky day, then, because I wasn't going to be nice to you," said Miranda with a grin. It faded as she continued. "I'm still really hurt by what you said, you know."

"I'm sorry," whispered Zosia. "It's not an excuse...but I do that. I push people away when I'm hurting, and when I was in your flat, I just wanted...I just wanted to push you away before you could push _me_ away." Her head fell. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean any of it."

"I wasn't going to push you away...I just needed some space at that particular moment."

"I know. I knew then, deep down...I just..." Zosia shook her head. "I told you I was a fuck-up."

Miranda reached over and softly lifted Zosia's head so that they were eye-to-eye. "And I said I wanted to help you. That hasn't changed."

"But...all those things I said..."

Miranda shrugged. "Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment." She looked away self-consciously. "Maybe...I think you're worth it."

Zosia reached out to stroke the other woman's face. "I don't deserve you."

"Damn right you don't," said Miranda lightly.

"The thing is..." Zosia sat back on the bed. "I need help. As in, professional help. And while I'm getting that...I don't think I'm ready for a relationship."

Miranda smiled sadly. "Yeah, I thought that might be the case. I'm glad you're getting the help you need, though."

"It's not that I don't want to...I just...it wouldn't be good for either of us at this time, I don't think." Zosia took a deep breath. "I feel like there's a...a _darkness_ in me right now, and until I get that sorted out...I don't think a relationship would be a good idea."

"I understand," said Miranda softly. "I want you to get well, Zosia. So...anything you need to do for that, just do it. And when you _are_ well..." She smiled. "I'll still be here."

"Going to wait for me?" asked Zosia lightly. "How romantic!"

"As if!" snorted Miranda. "But...when you're ready, give me a call, and...well, we'll take it from there."

"I will."

Miranda stood up, leaned over and kissed Zosia softly on the lips. "See you round, Doctor March."

"Same to you, Doctor Cowley," said Zosia quietly as she watched the other woman walk out of the room.

* * *

><p>XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX<p>

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed uneventfully for Zosia. She was staying in the same room for now until they found her a bed in Psych, but she didn't mind. It was actually kind of nice being close to people she knew, and the rest of the Keller team found time to pop in throughout the day to see how she was.<p>

It was dark now, however, and everyone she knew had gone home. She was dozing in the dim light, flitting in and out of consciousness. Her restlessness was probably a reaction to the previous few day's events, she guessed - there were still so many questions unanswered, and she doubted that she'd ever get any answers to them.

However, she was pleased to note that when she was asleep, her dreams were clear. The Labyrinth was not featured in any of them.

Did that mean that her mother was indeed free? She hoped so. The Lead Cenobite had assured Zosia that she was, and for some reason, she was inclined to believe him. The Cenobites seemed to be creatures of order - bound by many rules - and it seemed to her that they would keep their word. The question of where her mother was now still bothered Zosia, though, and she didn't know of any way she could find out.

Would her mother approve of what Zosia had done, though? That was another question that refused to leave her head. At the time, Zosia hadn't hesitated to damn her father to free her mother, but the sight of Guy being ripped to shreds would not go away. It still sickened her to her stomach, and her mother had probably seen it too, from beyond the wall. What if that choice was something her mother would condemn?

Zosia would probably never know, and that was something she would just have to live with.

A crash from beside her jerked her into awareness and she sat up in bed, trying to see what had caused the noise.

A jug had fallen to the floor, knocked over by the figure that was scurrying away from the bed as Zosia watched. It stopped at the door and turned around, and Zosia gasped as she realised who it was.

It was the homeless man that she had tried to treat all those days ago.

He fixed her with the same implacable stare, and then turned and left. Zosia was stunned into silence, and by the time she had recovered enough to call out, he was gone. She prepared to pull back the covers and give chase, but he had left a gift on her bedside table, and the sight of it gave her pause.

Lemarchand's Box sat on the table.

Zosia gingerly reached out and picked it up, all thoughts of pursuing the homeless man gone. It wouldn't do any good - she had a good idea of who he was now - a theory, at least. She supposed he was some sort of guardian or observer of the Box - someone whose job it was to keep an eye on those that possessed it, and also, it seemed, to deliver it to those who were deemed to be worthy of it.

She had no doubt that it was a message from the Cenobites. After all, the Leader had told her that she would open it again one day, and now he was giving her the opportunity. The Box had been given to her for safekeeping, ready for the day she was fated to open it again.

Examining the Box, she lay back in her bed. The thought of getting rid of it went through her head, but she dismissed it. It would be delivered back to her - _that_ she was sure of.

He was wrong, though, wasn't he? She didn't want to be like _them_, did she? At that, the memory of her determination to watch her father's evisceration came back to her, and she closed her eyes to dispel it. No - she would prove them wrong. She wouldn't open the Box. It had no power over her.

The words felt hollow even in Zosia's head, but she made the pledge all the same.

As she gazed over the six faces, again she thought that she saw shapes in the lacquered surfaces. Now, however, she imagined that one of them was her father's face, twisted in agony. A product of her imagination, or a glimpse into the world beyond the wall? A further examination revealed no such appearance of her mother's face, a fact that relieved her to no end.

Perhaps it _was_ a glimpse into the Labyrinth. After all, the Lead Cenobite had told her that her mother had been able to see out into the world from her prison - it made sense that her father would too. Wasn't that part of the torture? To be able to see those who weren't suffering, those who had delivered you to the agony?

Setting the box back onto the table, Zosia knew what she was going to do now. She was going to live her life. She was going to get well, she was going to return to her job, and she would work her hardest to become the best doctor she could be. And she would do this for two reasons - the first to make her mother proud, to show her that Zosia loved and missed her, and that Zosia was going help as many people as she could to make up for her father's misdeeds.

The second reason was a vindictive one - Zosia wasn't proud of that, but she had to admit it to herself - she was going to excel to make her father suffer. She would show him that he hadn't beaten her - she would show him that she took after her mother more than she took after him. As he watched from the Labyrinth, experiencing the furthest reaches of pain and pleasure, he would see Zosia succeeding and surpassing him, and that would make his torture all the more agonizing.

Zosia smiled. She could live with that.

**The End. **


End file.
